THE    COURAGE 
OF    CONVICTION 


By  T.  R.  SULLIVAN 


The   Courage    of   Conviction,     izmo, 

$1.50. 

Ars  Et  Vita  and  Other  Stories.  Illus 
trated  by  ALBERT  E.  STENIKR. 
I2tno,  $1.25. 

Tom  Sylvester.   A  Novel.    121110,  $1.50. 
Roses   of  Shadow.     A  Novel.     121110, 

$1.00. 

Day  and  Night  Stories.     First  Series. 

12IT1O,   §I.OO. 

Day  and  Night  Stories.  Second  Series. 
J2tno,  $1.00. 


THE  COURAGE 
OF  CONVICTION 

A    NOVEL 

BY 

T.    R.    SULLIVAN 


"  Alexander  subdued  the  world,  Cassar  his  enemies, 
Hercules  monsters,  but  he  that  overcomes  himself  is 
the  true  valiant  Captain." — HOWELL'S  LETTERS. 


CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 
NEW  YORK:::::::::::::::::i902 


COPYRIGHT,  1902,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published,  May,  1902 


TROW    DIRECTOflY 

NTING    AND     BOOKBINDING    COM 

NEW    YORK 


CTo 
L.   W.    S. 


2138406 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

I.  THE  SONG  AND  THE  SERMON                          i 

II.  CAUSE  AND  EFFECT         .        .        .        .16 

III.  THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE         .         .         .26 

IV.  ART'S  FIRM  VOTARY        .         .         .         -37 
V.  UNDER  CHARITABLE  STARS      .         .         -     5° 

VI.  THE  THORNS  OF  CONQUEST     .         .         -63 

VII.     THE  OBLONG  Box 71 

VIII.     ALTERED  CASES 83 

IX.  PROSPERITY      ......     99 

X.  THE  HAMMER  AND  THE  ANVIL        .         .115 

XI.  CLOUD-CAPP'D  TOWERS    ....   131 

XII.  THE  SHELTERED  SIDE  OF  CARE      .         .   152 

XIII.  WHERE  LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS  LIES  .         .   166 

XIV.  CERTAINTIES  UNFORESEEN       .         .         .  180 
XV.  ADVERSITY        ......  196 

XVI.  NATURE'S  KINDLY  LAW  .         .         .         .219 

XVII.  ADVENTURES  BRAVE  AND  NEW        .         .  229 

XVIII.     UNDER  THE  ROSE 235 

XIX.     POSTSCRIPTUM 249 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 


THE   SONG   AND   THE   SERMON 

r  I  ^HE  night  was  but  half  over  at  Mrs.  Brinkley 
-•-  Barrington's,  yet  already  her  hundred  invited 
guests,  comparing  notes  confidentially  in  the  pauses  of 
the  music,  were  convinced  that  it  was  one  to  be  long  re 
membered.  The  new  oval  room,  hung  with  pale-blue 
silken  damask,  had  been  proved  flawless,  acoustically 
and  artistically.  The  Paganini  of  the  day,  inspired  by 
these  favoring  conditions,  had  surpassed  himself,  draw 
ing  from  his  rare  old  violin  such  strains  as  never  before 
were  heard.  More  than  that,  the  soft,  diffused  glow, 
streaming  down  from  the  gilded  cornice  which  con 
cealed  the  lights,  was  most  becoming.  The  women, 
wearing  their  best  in  satin,  lace,  and  jewels,  looked 
their  best,  and  knew  it.  Supreme  satisfaction  shone 
in  every  face;  all  was  so  strange  and  so  delightful  that 
even  the  most  jaded  wanderer  of  the  night  could  not 
help  yielding  to  the  tingle  of  a  new  sensation. 

Into  this  agreeable  company  came  two  men,   ar 
riving  late  from  the  dinner-table  over  which  they  had 

i 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

lingered  together  in  one  of  the  smaller  Fifth  Avenue 
clubs,  a  few  blocks  away.  They  were  men  of  about 
the  same  age,  still  young, — on  the  hither  side  of  thirty, 
that  is  to  say, — with  fresh,  unwrinkled  faces.  Their  in 
timacy  had  begun  in  college,  and  they  had  much  in 
common  besides  their  youth  and  the  accident  of  asso 
ciation.  Comparatively  poor,  they  were  included  in 
that  very  large  fraction  of  American  society  which  is 
dependent  upon  its  own  exertions  for  getting  on  in 
the  world,  as  the  phrase  goes, — otherwise,  for  getting 
money  in  sufficient  quantities  to  ensure  comfort,  if  not 
ease.  Both,  therefore,  upon  graduating,  had  accepted 
the  situation  and  those  salaried  positions  down  town 
which  reconciled  to  a  certain  extent  the  laws  of  supply 
and  demand;  and,  apart  from  these,  each  was  fortunate 
enough  to  have  intellectual  resources  of  his  own  so 
marked  as  to  give  him  distinct  individuality. 

The  younger  of  the  two,  Gordon  Wise,  had  shown, 
when  a  child,  a  strong  taste  for  music.  Later  his  father 
had  received  a  foreign  appointment  in  the  diplomatic 
service;  and,  during  those  years  abroad,  the  boy  had 
fallen  in  with  a  famous  German  composer,  who,  dis 
covering  talent  in  him,  fostered  and  cultivated  it.  The 
master's  hope  was  that  he  would  devote  himself  solely 
to  his  art.  But  this  plan  Gordon's  father,  who  held 
practical  views  of  life,  bitterly  opposed.  Yet  the  son, 
though  yielding  so  far  as  to  give  music  only  a  sec 
ondary  place  in  his  scheme,  kept  the  hope  always  in 


The  Song  and  the  Sermon 

mind.  He  had  worked  hard  and  well,  with  steady 
progress,  from  time  to  time  making  a  frank  appeal  to 
the  public  by  the  sale  of  his  compositions.  Before 
long  these  gained  for  him  a  kind  of  local  fame,  meagrely 
accorded.  Then  one  song, — strange  to  say,  his  best, 
— touched  the  popular  heart,  and,  republished  in  Lon 
don,  brought  him  into  wider  notice.  The  boy,  grown 
to  man's  estate,  had  proved  his  case,  as  even  the  father, 
had  he  still  been  living,  might  now  have  admitted. 

Though  no  change  in  Gordon's  daily  habits  had  yet 
occurred,  it  was  believed  that  he  meant  to  follow  up 
this  success  by  turning  from  the  business  career  to  the 
professional  one.  He  was  unmarried,  amiable,  very 
simple,  and  genial  in  his  manners;  somewhat  too  short, 
perhaps,  somewhat  inclined  to  stoutness;  yet  decidedly 
good-looking,  beardless,  with  brown  hair,  a  fair  com 
plexion  and  a  fine  light  in  his  deep  blue  eyes.  Thus 
was  Gordon  Wise,  as  the  world  knew  him ;  and,  for 
the  moment,  the  world  seemed  to  be  almost  at  his 
feet. 

His  companion,  Paul  Hemming,  also  a  bachelor,  a 
tall,  slender,  dark  fellow  of  twenty-eight,  pursued,  like 
Wise,  an  ignis  fatuus  in  his  leisure  hours.  From  his 
first  youth  he  had  longed  to  be  a  painter.  More  time 
and  far  more  money  than  he  could  spare  had  been  de 
voted  to  that  longing,  but  these  were  not  spent  in  vain. 
He  was  a  man  of  fine  instincts,  whom  the  painters, 
one  and  all,  respected  and  admired  for  his  unfailing 

3 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

purpose,  for  the  skill  which  he  had  acquired  under 
great  disadvantages.  Forced  by  the  burden  of  poverty 
to  stay  at  home,  he  knew  the  great  European  galleries 
only  at  second-hand  or  from  photographs.  But  he  had 
been  fortunate  in  his  teachers,  doubly  fortunate  in  his 
own  power  of  application.  Though  the  achievement 
still  fell  short  of  the  intention,  his  work  had  so  much 
strength  combined  with  originality,  that  connoisseurs 
were  drawn  to  it,  as  indicating  unusual  promise. 
Some  of  it,  indeed,  had  sold  well.  The  circle  to  which 
his  name  was  known,  however,  remained  a  small  one. 
He  had  yet  to  fan  the  flame  thus  kindled.  It  was  his 
determination  to  do  this,  perhaps,  that  gave  his  face 
in  repose  a  certain  grimness,  which  made  his  friends 
charge  him  with  austerity;  but  this  may  have  been 
merely  an  inheritance,  since  his  mother  was  of  New 
England  birth.  The  look,  it  should  be  said,  did  him 
injustice.  Paul  Hemming  was  a  philosopher,  it  is  true; 
yet,  on  the  whole,  a  cheerful  one. 

After  the  smile  of  their  hostess  and  their  unspoken 
admiration  of  her  diamond  tiara  and  necklace,  the  two 
men  leaned  against  the  wall  near  the  doorway  to  con 
template  the  scene.  There  it  seemed  best  to  remain, 
for  the  seats  were  all  taken,  and  a  few  late-comers 
stood,  like  themselves,  in  various  parts  of  the  room. 
There  was  no  music  for  the  moment,  but  much  talk 
and  laughter  and  rustling  of  programmes. 

"How  well  Suzette  Brinkley  looks!"  said  Gordon 
4 


The  Song  and  the  Sermon 

Wise.  "  Who  is  that  tall  girl  next  her, — the  blonde, 
in  rose  color?  " 

He  did  not  turn  in  speaking,  or  he  must  have  ob 
served  that  his  friend's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  same 
point. 

"  That  is  Miss  Stanwood,"  Hemming  answered. 

"  Good  Heavens,  man !  Not  Nina  Stanwood,  the 
Winnipeg  King's  daughter!  Why,  so  it  is, — but  how 
she  has  changed! " 

"Ah!  I  thought  you  must  know  her." 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't.  I  remember  seeing  her  as  a 
school-girl,  before  she  came  out,  that's  all.  She  has 
lived  abroad,  hasn't  she?" 

"  In  Germany,  for  several  years.  She  came  home  in 
the  autumn,  and  I  have  met  her  at  one  or  two  small 
dinners  lately.  She  does  not  go  much  into  the  world, 
it  seems." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Gordon  Wise,  smiling.  "  Be 
cause  of  papa!  The  invisible  social  line  is  drawn  at 
him.  Money  won't  buy  everything." 

"  Wait,  and  see!  "  his  friend  returned,  quietly.  Then, 
glancing  at  his  programme,  he  added:  "Look  here! 
Stahlberg  is  to  sing." 

"  So  she  is,  and  we  are  in  luck!  How  did  Barring- 
ton  accomplish  that?  She  does  not  make  her  first 
appearance  at  the  Opera  House  until  to-morrow." 

"  Money  will  do  much,  you  see,"  said  Hemming. 
"  Is  she  as  great  as  they  say?  " 

5 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

"Great?  I  heard  her  in  Berlin  several  years  ago, 
and  even  then  she  was  divine.  There's  no  one  like 
her!" 

As  Wise  pronounced  this  judgment,  a  burst  of  ap 
plause  greeted  the  singer,  who  came  in  by  a  small 
door  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room.  She  was  of  tragic 
mould,  and  her  face,  suggesting  Jewish  origin,  still 
kept  its  youthful  lines;  her  coils  of  black  hair  were 
arranged  with  the  utmost  simplicity;  she  wore  white, 
without  ornament  of  any  kind  upon  her  neck  or  arms. 
But  her  dark  eyes,  flashing  out  over  the  company,  cast 
a  spell  upon  it.  And  in  what  seemed  breathless  silence 
she  began  her  song. 

It  was  Schumann's  wonderful  "  Ich  grolle  nicht!" 
to  Heine's  words;  a  song  thrice  familiar  to  many  of 
the  listeners,  who  yet  must  have  felt  that  they  were 
hearing  it  now  for  the  first  time.  Every  tone  of  the 
deep  contralto  voice  rang  clear  and  true.  Every  word 
was  given  its  just  dramatic  value,  from  the  defiant  scorn 
in  the  opening  phrases  to  the  passionate  despair  of 
the  final  renunciation.  With  this  Madame  Stahlberg 
completed  her  overwhelming  triumph  over  hearts  not 
touched  too  easily;  and  the  silence  continued  for  an 
appreciable  moment,  before  it  was  broken  by  con 
ventional  applause. 

Gordon  Wise  turned  to  his  friend  with  an  inquir 
ing  glance.  Hemming's  eyes  glistened,  and  at  first 
he  replied  only  by  a  nod;  then,  after  the  room  had 

6 


The  Song  and  the  Sermon 

settled  back  once  more  into  light-hearted  chatter,  the 
painter  whispered: 

"  You  were  right.  Art  like  that  would  convert  an 
infidel!  Yet  listen, — these  two  in  front  of  us  are  won 
dering  what  price  Stahlberg  can  command !  " 

"  Of  course.  They  worship  the  symbol  of  success. 
That  is  the  thing  which  they  respect  and  under 
stand." 

"  The  thing  which  makes  life  possible  to  nine  here 
out  of  every  ten!"  said  Hemming,  bitterly.  "  They 
have  no  real  feeling  for  art, — no  real  appreciation  of 
it.  They  know  nothing  of  the  artist's  sacrifices,  of 
the  patient  toil,  the  struggle  for  the  best  that  should 
command  respect,  whether  it  succeeds  or  fails.  Yet 
that  struggle  is  the  only  one  worth  making  in  this 
world." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  ask  too  much.  How  should 
they  know?  " 

"  They  might  do  all  I  ask  and  more,  if  they  only 
would,"  Hemming  sighed.  "  There  is  a  hopeless  lack 
of  sympathy  with  the  artist  in  this  commercial  land 
of  ours.  Well,  it  makes  the  struggle  all  the  finer  when 
it  is  undertaken  seriously.  And  a  word  in  your  ear, 
Gordon;  I,  for  one,  have  decided  to  undertake  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  that  I  have  burned  my  bridges  at  last,  and 
am  going  in  for  the  work  I  love  best  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul." 

7 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

Wise  drew  a  long  breath.  "  When  did  you  decide 
this?  "  said  he. 

"  Only  to-day.  You  are  the  first  to  know ;  but  it 
is  fixed;  in  a  week  I  shall  be  at  the  mercy  of  the 
world." 

"  This  is  a  very  serious  step,"  Wise  answered,  after 
a  moment's  reflection.  "  It  needs  good  courage.  But 
you  have  counted  the  cost,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  carefully.  I  have  saved  a  little  money, — a 
very  little.  If  I  sell  my  '  Tithonus  '  I  shall  get  the 
year  of  foreign  study  that  I  want.  If  not,  I  shall  do 
my  best  here,  without  it.  There  will  be  a  hard  fight 
in  any  case,  with  possible  privation,  possible  despair, 
— and  yet — 

"  But  there  is  something  more,"  interposed  the  other; 
"  you  give  up  all  thought  of  marriage,  unless — 

He  left  the  sentence  unfinished,  and,  after  waiting 
a  little,  Paul  Hemming  inquired,  gravely : 

"Unless  what?  I  have  considered  that,  too,  and 
put  away  the  thought,  of  course.  Whatever  my  fate, 
it  will  not  be  to  make  a  fortune.  One  cannot  marry 
on  the  uncertainties  of  art." 

"  Unless  one  marries  money." 

"God  forbid!"  said  Hemming,  reproachfully. 
"  What  do  you  take  me  for,  Gordon?  " 

"  I  understand  and  approve,  not  to  say  admire,  your 
resolution.  It  shows  courage  that  will  take  you  far. 
My  dear  fellow,  I  congratulate  you." 

8 


The  Song  and  the  Sermon 

"  Prove  it,  then !  Like  me,  you  have  your  art,  and 
are  practically  free,  without  hampering  ties.  Don't 
speak  across  a  gulf!  Plunge  in  and  follow  me." 

"Who  knows  but  I  may?"  said  Gordon  Wise, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  And  yet  my  art  is  dif 
ferent, — very  different,  you  see." 

At  that  moment  the  two  men  were  joined  by  their 
host,  Mr.  Barrington,  who  had  been  pressing  toward 
them  through  the  crowd. 

"Ah,  Hemming,"  he  said;  "very  glad  to  see  you. 
Wise,  you  are  the  man  I  want.  Stahlberg  desires  to 
sing  your  song, — the  new  one.  You  must  play  her 
accompaniment." 

"What!  After  Schumann?"  said  Wise,  flushing 
with  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  we'll  give  you  an  interval,"  returned  Barring- 
ton,  laughing.  "  After  the  string  quartette,  she  will 
sing  the  Bach  hymn,  as  you  see.  Then  there's  a  violin 
solo;  then  we  want  to  run  you  in  for  the  finish." 

"  It's  very  good  of  her — I  can't  refuse,"  stammered 
the  young  composer. 

"  Well,  I  should  say  not.  Come  with  me,  and  be 
presented  to  her.  She  is  even  more  charming  than 
she  looks." 

So  Wise  was  led  away,  and  in  due  course  the  music 
was  resumed  according  to  the  printed  programme. 
When  the  end  came,  the  host  stepped  forward  to  an 
nounce  that  Madame  Stahlberg  had  most  kindly  con- 

9 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

sented  to  interpret  the  work  of  a  native  composer. 
And  the  applause  which  greeted  this  statement  re 
doubled  when  Gordon  Wise,  following  the  singer,  took 
his  seat  at  the  piano. 

"  What!  After  Schumann?  "  Hemming  understood 
the  doubt  upon  discovering  that  the  music  was  written 
for  the  three  stanzas  in  Heine's  Book  of  Songs,  im 
mediately  following  those  made  forever  memorable  by 
the  great  German  composer, — namely,  for  the  twelve 
lines  of  passionate  grief,  wherein  "  Mein  Lieb,  wir 
sollen  Beide  elend  sein  "  is  the  refrain.  But  he  soon 
perceived  that  Wise,  in  choosing  this  theme,  had  jus 
tified  the  rash  step  in  some  degree  by  originality  of 
treatment.  If  the  song  lacked  Schumann's  inspiration, 
it  had  power  and  pathos  which  were  all  its  own,  where 
of  the  famous  interpreter  now  made  the  most.  Re 
called  again  and  again  at  the  close,  she  generously 
forced  the  local  favorite  to  the  front.  It  was  but  a 
small  portion  of  the  world's  public  which  thus  did 
them  honor;  yet  Hemming,  striving  to  judge  his  friend 
impartially,  felt  assured  that  the  song,  so  interpreted, 
would  have  received  the  same  recognition  in  Cairo 
or  St.  Petersburg.  The  success  was  genuine  and  well 
deserved. 

The  crowd  moved  slowly  toward  the  supper-room, 
and  Hemming,  observing  that  two  of  the  younger 
guests  were  caught  in  an  eddy,  hurried  on  to  join 
them.  They  were  Miss  Stanwood  and  Miss  Brinkley, 

10 


The  Song  and  the  Sermon 

of  whom  he  had  spoken  earlier  in  the  evening.  After 
greeting  them  both,  he  offered  his  arm  to  Miss  Stan- 
wood,  her  companion  took  that  of  another  man  who 
came  up  at  the  moment,  and  they  fell  into  line  to 
gether,  while  praise  of  Wise  and  Madame  Stahlberg 
resounded  on  all  sides.  Hemming  naturally  introduced 
the  subject  of  the  music,  Miss  Stanwood  as  naturally 
agreeing  that  it  had  been  remarkable.  Then  she 
passed  abruptly  from  that  to  his  own  art,  and  asked 
what  he  was  doing.  He  answered,  lightly,  that  he 
was  still  covering  yards  of  canvas  for  the  adornment 
of  his  studio. 

"  Oh,  but  I  hear  better  things  than  that!  "  she  de 
clared.  "  You  mean  to  take  up  painting  more  seriously, 
—to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else,  it  seems." 

"  111  news  travels  fast,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of 
annoyance.  "  Pray,  how  did  you  hear  this  ?  " 

"  And  good  news,  too !  I  was  very  glad  to  hear 
it;  glad  that  there  is  one  man  who  has  the  courage  of 
his  convictions.  I  congratulate  you.  It  was  my  father 
who  told  me." 

She  did  not  add,  as  she  might  have  done,  that  her 
father  had  stated  his  belief  that  Hemming  was  little 
better  than  a  fool.  The  man  of  convictions,  pleased 
by  her  words  and  their  tone,  which  struck  a  note  of 
sincerity,  expressed  his  pleasure  in  a  look.  This  she 
met  with  a  smile,  while  a  faint  flush  stole  into  her 
cheeks. 

II 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Hemming,  gratefully.  "  A  word 
like  that  helps  a  man.  I  shall  remember  yours  in  my 
rainy  days." 

"Ah,  but  there  mustn't  be  any!  Why  should  it 
rain  at  all?  Tell  me  about  your  work;  what  I  have 
seen  of  it  interests  me  so  much." 

"  I  will,  but  not  now,"  he  answered,  as  they  came 
in  sight  of  the  supper-table.  "  Now  it  is  our  duty  to 
eat,  drink,  and  be  merry.  What  shall  I  bring  you?" 

"  Whatever  you  please, — so  long  as  you  promise  to 
come  back;  later,  for  the  talk,  I  mean." 

Hemming  pushed  in  among  the  men  around  the 
table,  there  meeting  and  congratulating  Wise,  from 
whose  face  the  glow  of  excitement  had  not  yet  sub 
sided.  When  he  returned  with  his  supplies,  Miss 
Stanwood  had  joined  a  group  of  girls  who  were  busily 
comparing  impressions.  This  was  not  the  moment 
to  begin  a  serious  conversation;  so  he  hovered  about 
the  room  for  a  while,  talking  of  this  and  that,  clinking 
glasses  with  one  man  after  another,  and  was  presented 
to  the  radiant  Stahlberg,  who  held  her  court  in  a 
corner  where  many  devoted  subjects  paid  their  tribute 
in  turn.  Then,  finally  drifting  back  to  Miss  Stanwood, 
he  found  her  with  Gordon  Wise,  whom  Harrington 
had  brought  up.  Their  mood  was  of  the  lightest,  and 
he  could  only  fall  in  with  it.  Wise  stayed  on,  but, 
while  they  laughed  together,  many  of  the  guests  took 
leave.  Miss  Stanwood,  suddenly  noticing  this,  inquired 

12 


The  Song  and  the  Sermon 

the  hour,  and,  when  Hemming  showed  her  his  watch, 
gave  a  little  cry  of  dismay. 

"  My  carriage  came  long  ago;  everybody  is  going. 
Good-night!  You  will  come  to  see  me,  won't  you? 
Any  afternoon — late!  "  This  last  word  included  them 
both,  as  she  turned  to  the  hostess,  who  stood  very 
near.  Then  she  went  away;  and  the  two  men  soon 
followed,  agreeing  to  walk  up  the  avenue  together. 

"  Miss  Stanwood  is  a  sympathetic  soul,"  said  Hem 
ming,  when,  with  their  cigars  lighted,  they  had  come 
out  under  the  stars.  He  was  secretly  regretting  that 
promised  discussion  of  his  art,  now  postponed. 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Gordon  Wise.  "  It  is  a  pity  that 
she  knows  so  little  about  music." 

"  Don't  do  her  injustice!  Who  can  talk  sensibly  in 
the  clatter  of  a  supper-room?  " 

"  Ah,  but  a  straw  will  show  the  way  of  the  wind. 
I  am  sure  that  she  knows  little  of  it, — and  cares  less." 

This  plainly  referred  to  some  speech  of  hers  before 
Hemming  had  joined  them.  But  the  painter  did  not 
press  the  matter  for  further  enlightenment.  Instead 
of  doing  that,  after  an  interval  of  silence,  he  took  up 
his  former  attack  where  he  had  left  it  earlier  in  the 
evening. 

"  You  were  at  the  top  of  the  heap  to-night,  Gordon. 
The  whole  thing  was  a  splendid  indication.  Why  will 
you  not  follow  me  into  the  Rubicon?  You  could  not 
choose  a  better  moment." 

13 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  I  will  think  of  it.  At  least,  we  should  be  swamped 
together." 

"  Don't  admit  that!  If  you  must  be  haunted  by  the 
thought  of  failure,  admit  only  that  under  certain  con 
ditions  it  is  better  than  success." 

'  This  is  a  very  pious  and  persuasive  text  of  yours, 
but— 

"  But  you  can't  deny  that  I  practise  what  I  preach. 
Come,  now!  Can  you?" 

"No!"  returned  Wise,  stopping  at  the  corner  of 
the  cross  street  down  which  he  was  to  turn.  "  As 
I  said  before,  I  admire  your  courage." 

"  It's  not  courage,"  said  Hemming,  earnestly,  "  but 
a  survival  of  superstitious  faith.  Thank  God,  there 
is  some  left,  even  in  this  tyrannous  Republic  of  Com 
monplace.  I  believe  that  the  man  who  tries  honestly 
can't  fail.  His  guardian  angel  won't  let  him." 

"  Angels  be  blowed!  "  laughed  Wise.  "  They  don't 
flock  here  on  Manhattan  Island.  Say  that  I  am  cursed 
with  a  mere  rivulet  of  talent;  how  then?  To  swell  that 
into  a  flood  would  tax  the  strength  of  an  archangel. 
How  then,  I  say  ?  " 

"How  then?"  repeated  Hemming.  "Why,  fail! 
But  in  the  right  way,  not  the  wrong  one.  Good 
night!" 

He  went  on  through  the  darkness  with  a  ringing 
stride,  while  Gordon  Wise  waited  there  a  moment 
longer,  looking  after  him.  "  I  wish  I  were  as  sure  of 

14 


The  Song  and  the  Sermon 

myself  as  that,"  he  sighed.  "  But  why  shouldn't  I  be? 
Why  not  follow  his  lead  for  better,  for  worse?  I  should 
get  the  joy  of  the  conflict  out  of  it  in  any  case;  but 
is  that  worth  the  sacrifice?"  Thereupon  he  turned, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  with  a  laugh,  as  he  walked 
slowly  homeward.  And  when  he  reached  his  door  the 
vital  question  was  still  unanswered. 


II 

CAUSE   AND    EFFECT 

IN  the  total  exclusion  of  Anthony  Stanwood  from 
fashionable  life  the  imaginary  social  line  of  which 
Gordon  Wise  and  his  friend  had  spoken  swerved  out 
of  its  accustomed  course.  It  is  true  that  he  was  a 
hard,  unpolished  man  of  obscure  antecedents,  whose 
first  occupation  in  life  had  been  that  of  brakeman  upon 
a  Western  railroad.  But  in  various  ways,  some  of 
which  were  none  too  scrupulous,  he  had  risen  into 
prominence  with  a  large  fortune,  and  for  ten  years  or 
more  had  made  his  home  in  New  York,  there  control 
ling  certain  vast  interests  in  the  North-West  with  a 
relentless  hand.  He  had  a  kind  of  Midas-gift  for 
making  money;  when  he  bought  an  acre  or  two  of 
land,  copper  and  silver,  if  not  gold,  were  sure  to  be 
discovered  in  it;  when  he  built  upon  the  outskirts  of 
a  town,  its  growth  was  always  in  his  direction.  In 
many  similar  cases  ten  years  of  wealth  have  served  to 
blot  out  completely  all  recollection  of  a  former  state. 
The  grocer  of  one  generation  may  become  the  prince 
of  another  with  none  to  dispute  his  rank,  openly  at 
least. 

The  limitations  of  this  man's  nature,  however,  were 
16 


Cause  and  Effect 

very  marked,  and  he  had  never  learned  to  overcome 
or  even  thoroughly  to  disguise  them.  He  was  mean, 
narrow,  exacting  in  small  ways,  without  the  faint 
est  notion  of  good-fellowship.  Apart  from  his  busi 
ness  schemes  he  had  few  interests  beyond  the  daily 
newspaper  and  an  occasional  game  of  cards.  In  the 
commercial  world,  while  his  power  was  recognized,  he 
was  disliked  and  feared;  from  the  social  world  he  was 
simply  ruled  out  as  impossible.  Entirely  conscious  of 
this  unpopularity,  he  had  at  one  time  striven  against 
it;  succeeding  so  far  as  to  get  his  name  proposed  for 
membership  at  a  fashionable  club.  But  when  he  was 
blackballed  there,  he  accepted  his  position,  and  went 
on  in  his  own  way.  Men  of  that  sort  sometimes  gain 
distinction  through  their  wives;  and  Mrs.  Stanwood, 
a  woman  of  gentle  nature,  intellectually  her  husband's 
superior,  might  have  accomplished  this,  had  she  been 
more  self-asserting.  But  she  was  shy  and  reserved 
at  best,  often,  moreover,  a  martyr  to  ill-health,  too 
feeble  for  such  an  effort.  All  the  care  she  was  capable 
of  giving  had  been  bestowed  upon  her  daughter,  the 
only  child.  She  had  carried  all  her  points  in  regard 
to  Nina's  education,  which  she  desired  should  include 
every  accomplishment  that  her  own  had  lacked.  The 
girl  was  sent  to  the  best  schools,  and  taken  abroad  in 
due  course.  No  pains,  in  short,  were  spared  to  make 
the  training  thorough,  and  the  end  justified  the  means. 
For  Nina  Stanwood,  inheriting  her  mother's  gentle 
17 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

disposition,  showed  eagerness  to  learn,  with  ability  to 
put  her  learning  to  the  best  account;  and,  at  twenty, 
was  agreeable  and  intelligent,  as  well  as  fair  and  grace 
ful,  making  friends  wherever  she  went.  She  was  de 
voted  to  her  mother,  and  she  idolized  her  father,  whom 
she  considered  to  be  the  handsomest  man  of  his  time. 
In  fact,  so  far  as  features  go,  he  was  not  ill-looking, 
and  he  tried  hard  to  keep  his  seamy  side  well  hidden 
in  her  presence.  Viewing  him  always  in  the  light  of 
her  own  better  nature,  she  recognized  but  two  defects, 
— both  trifling, — in  his.  One  was  a  slight  tendency 
to  disregard  grammatical  laws  in  his  speech  under 
excitement;  the  other  being  an  indifference  to  take 
what  seemed  his  proper  place  in  society,  which  she 
innocently  supposed  to  have  been  always  a  matter  of 
choice  with  him.  With  her  help,  he  might  have  done 
much  to  correct  this  latter  failing;  for  her  beauty  and 
unconscious  grace  were  already  beginning  to  tell,  so 
that,  day  by  day,  the  barriers  of  exclusion  went  down 
before  her.  But  her  father,  now  nearly  sixty,  had 
merged  his  former  ambitious  yearnings  into  a  feeling 
of  pride  at  Nina's  success.  He  was  very  proud  of  her, 
fonder  of  her  than  he  had  ever  been  of  anyone.  His 
meanness  had  never  shown  itself  much  at  home,  and 
now  he  showered  money  and  gifts  upon  this  child 
whose  wishes  he  strove  to  anticipate.  In  her  all  his 
social  aims  were  now  concentrated.  She  must  marry 
well, — a  man  of  good  family,  a  rich  man,  of  course. 

18 


Cause  and  Effect 

About  a  week  after  the  Harrington  musical  party, 
Mr.  Stanwood  sat  in  a  sunny  corner  of  his  breakfast- 
room,  reading  the  morning  paper.  He  had  breakfasted 
alone,  for  his  wife  rarely  left  her  room  until  late  in 
the  day,  and  Nina  had  not  yet  come  down.  He  re 
membered  that  she  had  danced  out  the  night  at  a  ball 
of  which  he  desired  to  hear  her  account;  so  he  waited 
for  her  with  some  impatience,  reading  the  foreign  tele 
grams  and  stock  reports  twice  over;  then,  glancing 
idly  at  the  editorial  page,  he  found  a  paragraph  there 
which  stirred  him  into  disapproval.  He  tossed  the 
paper  aside  contemptuously,  and  paced  the  room  for 
a  while,  in  his  preoccupation  letting  his  cigar  go  out. 

As  he  stopped  to  relight  it,  the  door  opened  and 
Nina  came  in.  Her  gray  eyes  sparkled  merrily;  she 
seemed  the  embodiment  of  health  and  good  spirits 
as  she  flashed  across  the  room  like  a  ray  of  sunlight 
to  kiss  her  father  affectionately,  and  his  clouded  face 
cleared  at  sight  of  her. 

"  I  thought  you  were  never  coming  down,"  said  he. 
"  But  you  don't  look  a  bit  the  worse  for  sitting  up 
all  night.  How  did  the  ball  go?  " 

"  Oh,  papa,  it  was  delightful !  I  had  the  best  time 
in  all  my  life!"  She  turned  away  to  ring  the  bell, 
while  he,  smiling  at  the  speech  which  he  had  heard 
before,  went  back  to  his  chair  in  the  window. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,  Nina.  Who  were  your  part 
ners?" 

19 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  Dear  me,  how  can  I  remember?  There  were  so 
many!  Let  me  see.  I  danced  first  with  George  Har 
vey,  then  with  Gordon  Wise — 

"  Harvey?  That's  the  banker's  son,  isn't  it?  Har 
vey,  Long  and  Company?" 

"  Yes,  papa, — that  is,  I  believe  so.  I  am  not 
perfectly  sure;  but  he  is  very  nice,  and  he  dances 
well." 

"And  the  others?" 

Nina  seated  herself  at  the  table,  laughing,  and  gave 
him  more  names  from  her  long  list  while  the  break 
fast  was  brought  in.  "  And  I  danced  the  cotillon  with 
Mr.  Hemming,"  she  concluded,  as  the  servant  left 
them  alone  again. 

Mr.  Stanwood  stirred  uneasily,  and  there  came  a 
change  in  his  expression  which  the  newspaper,  held 
before  his  face,  concealed  from  Nina.  She  noticed, 
however,  the  contemptuous  tone  of  his  reply. 

"Hemming!"  he  said.  "Always  on  deck,  isn't 
he?" 

"Why  not,  papa?  Of  course,  he  goes  everywhere; 
everybody  likes  him." 

A  sharp  retort  rose  to  her  father's  lips.  "  Very  well, 
then,  I  don't!"  was  what  he  thought  and  meant  to 
say.  But  he  checked  the  speech  in  time,  and  only 
answered,  with  the  same  irritating  contempt: 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  he's  a  pleasant  chap  enough,  but 
he's  a  born  fool  to  fling  away  his  chances  as  I  hear 

20 


Cause  and  Effect 

he  has.  I've  said  it  before,  and  I  say  it  again.  He'll 
live  to  find  out  that  there's  no  friend  in  this  world 
like  a  ten-dollar  bill." 

Nina's  face  flushed;  but,  after  waiting  a  moment, 
she  replied,  calmly: 

"  He  will  make  many  such  friends  if  he  lives  long 
enough.  He  is  not  painting  wholly  for  amusement, 
papa." 

"Oh,  of  course  not!  There  are  fools  enough  to 
encourage  him  for  a  while,  I  suppose;  they'll  flatter 
him,  and  turn  his  head,  if  they  haven't  already.  But 
that  ain't  business.  He'll  get  left,  you'll  see.  I'll 
guarantee  to  make  more  money  in  a  day  than  he  does 
in  the  next  ten  years." 

This  last  speech  raised  a  point  which  Nina  knew 
it  would  be  vain  to  dispute.  With  a  definite  purpose 
in  view  she  met  her  father  upon  his  own  ground,  and 
said,  good-humoredly : 

"  Painting  is  only  a  profession,  papa,  I  know.  But 
Mr.  Harvey  buys  pictures  as  an  investment,  and 
makes  money,  too.  Only  last  night  George  told  me 
that  some  of  the  sketches  his  father  owns  were  worth 
double  the  price  paid  for  them  a  year  ago." 

"  Indeed?    I  wish  he  may  get  it,  that's  all!  " 

"  He  has  been  offered  it  And  Mr.  Hemming  has 
just  finished  a  large  picture  which,  they  say,  is  his 
very  best." 

Mr.  Stanwood  shot  at  her  a  keen,  inquiring  glance; 
21 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

then  dismissed  his  own  conclusion  as  hasty  and  im 
possible. 

"  It  ought  to  be  that,"  he  said,  dryly.  "  I  advise 
him  to  go  on  improving." 

"  Now  if  you  were  to  buy  it,  papa — 

"Buy  it?     Are  you  crazy?" 

"  He  only  asks  a  thousand  dollars,  and — 

"  A  thousand  dollars  for  a  pot  of  paint!  Why,  damn 
it,  I  might  as  well  plaster  the  wall  with  greenbacks! 
Look  here,  Nina,  this  painter  is  playing  a  deep  game 
with  you.  He's  working  on  your  feelings." 

"  Not  at  all,  papa.  That  is  a  great  mistake.  He 
knows  nothing  about  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  the  idea's  yours,  then?  " 

"Certainly  I  do." 

"Then  I  warn  you  to  look  out!"  cried  Mr.  Stan- 
wood,  in  a  rage,  while  Nina  started  up  in  dismay.  "  I've 
seen  it  coming,  and  I  won't  have  it.  You  are  too 
much  interested  in  that  young  man.  You  encourage 
him,  and  he  will  take  advantage  of  it.  He'll  be  mak 
ing  love  to  you  next!  Don't  you  never  mention  his 
name  to  me  again!  " 

"  You  have  no  sort  of  right  to  say  such  things !  " 
retorted  Nina,  flying  from  the  room  in  tears. 

Mr.  Stanwood,  thus  left  to  himself,  stamped  out  his 
fit  of  ill-temper  in  a  very  few  minutes.  Hitherto,  he 
had  always  been  extremely  careful  to  avoid  the  sub 
ject  of  his  daughter's  possible  marriage  in  any  con- 

22 


Cause  and  Effect 

versation  with  her.  Now,  he  had  lost  his  head,  as 
it  seemed  to  him,  inexcusably.  Even  a  reference  to 
any  predilection  on  her  part  would  have  been  unwise. 
The  threat  of  opposition  into  which  he  had  drifted,  he 
felt  to  be  a  grave  mistake.  He  went  down  town,  not 
only  convinced  of  this,  but  already  resolved  to  patch 
up  the  mangled  matter  without  delay, — at  their  very 
next  interview,  in  fact.  And  he  became  anxious  that 
this  interview  should  not  be  long  deferred.  He  knew 
Nina  well  enough  to  foresee  that  she  would  try  to 
avoid  him  for  the  next  few  days,  on  the  plea  of  illness, 
or  otherwise.  Such  a  course,  which  must  tend  to 
widen  the  unlucky  gap  between  them,  he  could  not 
leave  open  to  her.  By  the  time  he  reached  his  office 
he  saw  his  way  clear,  and  entered  upon  it  at  once  in 
a  note  of  apology  for  his  violent  speech,  sent  up  town 
by  a  special  messenger.  No  answer  came;  but,  at 
dinner-time,  Nina  met  him  pleasantly,  as  usual.  He 
was  glad  to  find  that  she  had  not  appealed  to  her 
mother,  who  remained  in  happy  ignorance  of  their 
disagreeable  scene.  After  dinner,  while  he  smoked 
alone,  Nina  presented  herself  to  thank  him  for  his 
note.  Following  out  a  carefully  prepared  plan,  he 
then  hedged  as  much  as  he  dared,  mentioning  no 
names,  but  making  his  disapproval  of  the  painter's 
folly  sufficiently  obvious.  After  this  tack,  he  sped 
smoothly  over  a  sea  of  glittering  generalities,  with  a 
statement  of  his  belief  that  Nina  had  given  no  one 

23 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

encouragement,  and  would  encourage  only  the  right 
man,  at  the  right  time,  in  the  right  way;  her  father 
and  her  mother  wished  her  to  be  happy,  married  or 
single,  she  must  understand  that;  he  felt  sure  that 
she  would  do  nothing  to  cause  them  a  moment's  un 
easiness.  To  all  this  Nina  listened  amiably,  saying 
little  in  reply,  but  making  that  little  conciliatory  in 
its  tone.  There  was  a  strong  implication,  moreover, 
of  contentment  with  the  existing  state  of  things,  as 
if  she  wished  it  clearly  understood  that  she  had  no 
expectation  of  marrying  at  present.  This  was  very 
soothing,  and,  after  her  affectionate  good-night,  Mr. 
Stanwood  congratulated  himself  upon  his  conduct  of 
a  difficult  case.  It  was  always  the  business  aspect 
of  a  problem  which  presented  itself  to  him,  and  he 
felt  that  this  one  was  now  in  a  fair  way  of  solution 
upon  good  business  principles.  It  pleased  him  espe 
cially  that  the  absurd  suggestion  of  an  investment  in 
Hemming's  picture  had  been  left  out  of  the  matter 
altogether. 

But  Nina's  mind  had  been  busy  all  day  upon  this 
very  thing,  and  though  she  cunningly  concealed  her 
train  of  thought,  it  was  by  no  means  abandoned;  on 
the  contrary,  she  went  to  bed  with  a  new  purpose 
which  the  pleasant  little  after-dinner  talk  had  not 
shaken  in  the  least, — the  purpose,  namely,  of  making 
the  proposed  investment  herself.  In  the  matter  of 
an  allowance  her  father  had  never  been  niggardly 

24 


Cause  and  Effect 

with  her.  She  had  money  laid  by,  more  to  come  in; 
and  an  hour's  consideration  of  her  accounts  satisfied 
her  that  she  could  furnish  the  sum  needed  for  the 
picture.  But  this  must  be  done  secretly,  as  she  decided, 
because  of  her  father's  opposition,  in  the  first  place; 
more  than  that,  because  his  misconstruction  of  her 
motive  had  warped  the  benevolent  scheme  into  a  sign 
of  tender  encouragement.  Nina  assured  herself,  with 
flaming  cheeks,  that  the  suspicion  had  been  unfounded. 
It  was  absurdly  unjust,  yet  others  might  misconstrue 
her  in  the  same  cruel  way,  if  opportunity  were  granted 
them.  She  would  forestall  the  judgment  of  all  such 
evil-minded  persons, — of  one  other,  too,  who  was  not 
evil-minded.  Even  Hemming,  himself,  should  never 
know  that  she  had  come  into  possession  of  his  work. 
Her  name  must  not  figure  in  the  transaction  at  all. 

The  infusion  of  harmless  mystery  made  the  plan 
doubly  interesting  to  her.  Yet  it  was  necessary  to 
take  someone  into  her  confidence;  and  she  wavered 
a  day  or  two  longer  between  two  or  three  old  friends 
whom  she  could  surely  trust,  finally  making  a  choice 
which  she  felt  was  the  wisest  possible. 


Ill 

THE   TURN   OF   THE   TIDE 

MEANWHILE,  Paul  Hamming's  abrupt  retire 
ment  from  business  had  been  duly  discussed 
by  all  his  friends  and  acquaintances;  then,  spreading 
beyond  this  inner  circle,  the  news  was  chronicled  in 
the  papers,  to  become  a  theme  for  discussion  among 
the  multitude  who  did  not  even  know  him  by  sight; 
so  that  this  purely  personal  matter  began  to  assume 
the  prominence  of  a  nine  days'  wonder.  In  fact,  sides 
were  taken  which  kept  the  interest  alive  even  longer 
than  the  term  proverbially  prescribed.  On  one  hand 
were  those  who  frankly  admired  his  resolution;  on 
the  other  those  who  pronounced  his  course  rash,  if 
not  absolutely  foolish;  and  the  latter  formed  an  over 
whelming  majority.  Hemming's  unconsciousness  of 
the  little  storm  he  had  developed  amazed  Gordon 
Wise,  who  met  the  subject  everywhere.  He  took  a 
firm  stand  in  the  minority,  maintaining  that  his  friend's 
talent  warranted  the  step,  and  would  lead  to  a  finan 
cial  success, — the  only  form  of  triumph  which  counted 
in  an  argument  with  the  opposing  faction.  If  the 
argument  grew  heated,  he  sometimes  added  that  he 
was  more  than  half  inclined  to  take  the  same  step 

26 


The  Turn  of  the  Tide 

himself.  But  as  the  days  went  on  he  prudently  re 
frained  from  setting  this  seal  upon  his  enthusiasm. 
Not  that  it  had  waned  in  the  least,  because  he  no 
longer  cared  to  make  the  personal  application.  It  is 
the  commonest  inconsistency  in  our  nature  to  admire 
sincerely  the  self-denial  of  others,  without  attempting 
to  practise  it  ourselves.  Gordon  Wise  had  decided 
that  he  was  not  the  man  for  the  attempt, — that  was 
all. 

In  his  talk  with  Hemming  at  the  Barringtons'  musi 
cal  party  he  had  hinted  at  the  force,  which  now,  some 
what  abruptly,  led  him  to  this  decision,  even  while 
he,  at  first  unwilling  to  own  the  spell  that  makes  the 
world  go  round,  quieted  his  artistic  conscience  by 
doubts  of  his  ability.  His  doubts  were  really  of  a 
different  nature,  as  he  presently  discovered.  He 
awoke  one  morning  to  find  himself  dead  in  love  with 
Miss  Nina  Stanwood,  and  to  sigh  over  what  seemed 
at  the  moment  to  be  a  particularly  hopeless  passion. 
Not  that  she  disliked  him,  so  far  as  he  could  see;  but 
liking  was  by  no  means  loving,  in  the  first  place; 
furthermore,  granting  his  power  to  win  her,  Gordon 
Wise  foresaw,  on  her  father's  part,  opposition  of  the 
fiercest  sort  to  such  a  marriage.  Old  Anthony's  heart 
must  be  won  over,  too, — a  chilling  thought  to  which, 
by  degrees,  he  grew  almost  accustomed.  Their  ac 
quaintance  was  of  the  slightest,  to  be  sure,  but  the 
associations  were  business  ones,  not  positively  un- 

27 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

favorable.  He  was  far  from  rich,  and  to  a  rich  man 
his  prospects  might  appear  of  trifling  value.  Still,  he 
had  prospects  that  could  be  definitely  stated:  he  could 
go  to  the  old  man  with  his  statement,  and  an  assur 
ance  of  his  willingness  to  work  with  redoubled  energy, 
in  view  of  the  prize  at  stake.  That  should  be  his 
course,  if  the  time  for  it  ever  came.  And  the  time 
might  come,  as  he  now  perceived.  With  all  this  in 
his  mind  there  was  no  room  left  for  the  improvident 
idea  of  pursuing  an  art  which  had  no  commercial  bear 
ing  whatever,  and  he  ceased  to  consider  it.  But,  nat 
urally,  he  kept  his  own  counsel  regarding  the  new 
aims  which  had  crowded  it  out.  He  held  in  readiness 
certain  non-committal  speeches,  in  case  Hemming 
should  renew  his  attack  upon  him.  The  attack,  how 
ever,  was  not  renewed.  Hemming  had  said  his  say, 
and  determined  to  let  his  example  speak  for  him. 
Yet  there  was  reproach  in  his  silence,  as  Gordon  Wise 
well  knew. 

One  day,  going  for  luncheon  into  a  down-town 
restaurant,  he  saw  Anthony  Stanwood  eating  at  a 
small  table,  alone.  The  room  was  crowded,  and  Wise, 
crossing  to  the  vacant  seat,  asked  permission  to  oc 
cupy  it.  The  old  man  received  him  graciously.  Left 
to  himself  oftener  than  not  in  such  public  places,  he 
was  really  glad  to  have  a  companion,  and  took  some 
pains  to  show  it.  Gordon  Wise  met  him  more  than 
half  way.  It  was  not  in  human  nature  to  forget  that 

28 


The  Turn  of  the  Tide 

he  was  dealing  with  a  powerful  factor  in  his  fate. 
Almost  involuntarily  his  manner  toward  his  possible 
father-in-law  grew  tactfully  deferential.  Mr.  Stanwood 
expanded  under  this  blending  of  subtle  influences,  and, 
saying  to  himself  that  here  was  a  sensible  sort  of  chap 
with  a  clear  head  on  his  young  shoulders,  gave  Wise 
a  cigar;  then,  as  they  lingered  smoking  over  the  table, 
he  actually  dropped  a  hint  of  an  investment,  which 
Wise  noted  and  acted  upon  promptly,  much,  as  it 
proved,  to  his  advantage.  Mentioning  this  a  day  or 
two  afterward,  when  Mr.  Stanwood,  of  his  own  ac 
cord,  turned  the  tables  by  lunching  with  him,  Wise 
thought  that  his  reputation  for  shrewdness  had  suf 
fered  no  loss  in  consequence.  The  two  lunched  to 
gether  again,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  their  growing 
intimacy  was  observed  by  some  of  Wise's  friends,  who 
inquired  satirically  what  sort  of  deal  he  was  work 
ing  with  the  Winnipeg  King.  He  smiled,  and  said 
nothing,  but  his  conscious  air  suggested  that  the 
"  deal "  had  a  mysterious  importance,  too  deep  for 
words.  And  this  was  precisely  the  case. 

During  the  next  few  weeks  Wise  met  Miss  Stan- 
wood  frequently,  and  exerted  himself  to  pay  her  small 
attentions.  But  other  men  did  the  same;  it  seemed 
to  him  that  she  treated  all  alike,  without  the  smallest 
distinguishing  mark  of  preference.  Watching  anxiously 
for  some  sign  to  justify  a  declaration,  he  passed' from 
love's  first  symptoms  to  an  acute  stage  of  the  disease, 

29 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

until  no  reader  of  the  heart  could  have  doubted  that 
his  love  was  deep  and  entirely  sincere.  In  her  pres 
ence  he  grew  ill  at  ease.  When  she  was  absent,  her 
lightest  words,  remembered  and  repeated,  revealed  to 
him  new  charms  of  character  slowly  unfolding  like  a 
lovely  flower.  Her  defects,  transmuted  by  the  alchemy 
which  lovers  use,  became  so  many  beauties;  even  that 
cardinal  one,  her  imperfect  sympathy  with  music,  he 
regarded  now  as  a  proof  of  sincerity.  Much  hack 
neyed  nonsense  about  his  art  passed  current  for  musi 
cal  knowledge  in  the  fashionable  world;  if  she  dis 
dained  it  all  and  would  take  no  part  in  it,  was  she 
not  so  much  the  more  to  be  admired? 

Nina's  most  intimate  friend  was  Suzette  Brinkley, 
the  girl  with  whom  Gordon  Wise  had  first  seen  her 
in  Mrs.  Barrington's  music-room.  Miss  Brinkley  was 
the  daughter  of  Barrington's  cousin,  a  distinguished 
physician,  justly  renowned  for  his  professional  skill, 
and  singularly  free  from  those  natural  weaknesses 
which  success  too  often  brings  to  the  surface.  His 

was 

"  A  nature  sloping  to  the  southern  side," 

with  no  shadowy  recesses  to  harbor  vanity  and  other 
petty  vices  of  the  great.  He  was  amiable,  generous, 
considerate,  kindly  in  all  relations  of  life.  Fortune 
had  always  smiled  upon  him,  and  he  returned  her 
smile  most  genially.  His  very  presence  had  a  sunny 
warmth,  of  which  he  appeared  to  be  quite  unconscious. 

30 


The  Turn  of  the  Tide 

In  person  he  was  round  and  fair  and  rosy,  with  thick 
hair,  closely  clipped,  turning  white  at  the  temples;  but 
his  big  yellow  mustache  bore  no  such  hall-mark  of 
experience,  and  his  blue  eyes,  undimmed,  still  kept 
their  boyish  twinkle.  He  had  turned  fifty,  but  his 
contemporaries  declared  that  he  did  them  gross  in 
justice.  When,  they  asked,  would  he  pay  them  proper 
respect  by  beginning  to  grow  old? 

The  ladies  had  left  the  table,  and  Dr.  Brinkley,  hav 
ing  supplied  his  guests  with  cigars,  started  the  Madeira 
upon  its  second  round.  It  had  been  a  dinner  of  twelve. 
Four  of  the  six  men  were  comfortably  engaged  in 
talk,  so  he  moved  nearer  to  Gordon  Wise,  who  had 
turned  his  chair  toward  the  wall  behind  him,  where 
hung  a  small  picture  representing  two  figures  in  a 
trellised  garden  by  the  sea. 

"That's  a  Hemming,"  said  Dr.  Brinkley;  "one  of 
his  early  things.  I  bought  it  because  I  fancied  that 
the  girl  had  a  sort  of  likeness  to  Suzette.  Of  course, 
it  was  an  accident, — a  suggestion  rather  than  a  re 
semblance." 

"I  see!"  Wise  answered.  "I  thought  that  must 
be  Hemming's.  What  talent  he  has!  "  And,  without 
knowing  it,  he  sighed. 

"Why  did  you  sigh?"  asked  his  host,  smiling. 
"  Do  you  doubt  Hemming's  staying  power  ?  " 

"On  the  contrary!"  said  Wise,  evading  the  first 
question  in  a  prompt  reply  to  the  second.  "  He  has 

31 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

tremendous  energy,  as  well  as  courage.  He  must  suc 
ceed." 

"  I  hope  so,  very  heartily.  Yet  I  wish  his  courage 
were  a  little  less  Quixotic.  I  like  him  so  much  that 
I  want  him  to  be  both  successful  and  happy, — or, 
rather,  happy  first  and  successful  afterward." 

"  Does  not  one  state  involve  the  other,  for  the 
artist?  "  inquired  Wise. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Dr.  Brinkley,  twisting  his  mus 
tache,  meditatively.  "  But  absolute  success  in  art  or 
in  a  profession  comes  late.  Meanwhile, — meanwhile, 
there  is  the  struggle  for  existence,  which  I  fear  that 
Hemming  does  not  fully  realize.  He  is  young;  he 
has  fire  and  enthusiasm,  but  very  little  money  to  fall 
back  upon,  I  believe." 

"  Very  little." 

"  Exactly.  It  will  be  a  hard  fight,  then,  and  he 
ought  not  to  fight  alone.  If  he  leads  an  ascetic  life, 
both  he  and  his  work  must  suffer;  if  he  goes  to  the 
other  extreme,  why,  that  form  of  existence  is  not  liv 
ing.  I  don't  want  to  see  him  turn  fortune-hunter. 
But  a  good  wife  with  moderate  means  helps  a  man 
in  every  way.  There  are  many  such  girls  to  be  had; 
Hemming  has  only  to  choose." 

"  He  does  not  intend  to  marry,"  Wise  replied. 

"No,  of  course  not!"  pursued  the  other,  impa 
tiently.  "  He  has  raised  the  standard  of  independence; 
he  intends  to  forswear  the  world.  I  could  not  even 

32 


The  Turn  of  the  Tide 

get  him  here  to-night.  He  declined,  on  the  ground 
that  he  was  going  nowhere.  That's  all  wrong!  Now, 
I  wonder  whose  glove  that  is!" 

Gordon  Wise  had  already  picked  up  the  glove  from 
the  floor,  and  was  thoughtfully  pulling  its  slender 
fingers  into  shape.  "  Miss  Stanwood's,  I  think,"  said 
he.  "  This  was  her  chair,  next  mine." 

"  Yes,  it  must  be  hers.  There's  a  girl,  now,  just 
the  wife  for  Hemming.  I  don't  see  what  you  boys 
are  thinking  about.  We  were  made  of  different  stuff 
in  our  day." 

"  We  all  think  well  of  Miss  Stanwood,  you  may  be 
sure,"  said  Wise,  laughing.  "  Even  Hemming  would 
agree  to  that." 

"No,  he  wouldn't,  confound  him!  It  was  mainly 
on  her  account  that  I  wanted  him  to-night.  I  had 
my  reasons,  and  I  flung  her  at  his  head;  but  it  made 
no  difference.  That's  what  I  mean  by  calling  his  cour 
age  Quixotic.  Tell  him  that  it  is  a  serious  mistake." 

"  Why  not  tell  him,  yourself  ?  " 

"  Damn  it,  man,  I  have  told  him!  "  cried  Dr.  Brink- 
ley,  laughing  at  his  own  excitement  in  the  matter. 
"  But  he  seems  to  have  no  respect  for  my  opinion. 
Yours  might  weigh  more;  you  stand  nearer  to  him, 
— nearer,  I  think,  than  anyone  else.  Tell  him  not  to 
be  a  fool,  and  perhaps  he  will  listen  to  you." 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can,  gladly,"  said  Wise.    But — 

"  Good!  "  said  the  host,  puffing  at  his  half-smoked 

33 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

cigar,  to  find  that  it  had  gone  out.  He  laid  it  down 
after  a  swift  glance  around  the  table,  and  then  pushed 
back  his  chair.  "  Shall  we  go  up  to  the  drawing- 
room?"  said  he. 

Wise  crossed  directly  to  Miss  Stanwood,  and  re 
turned  her  glove.  But,  finding  that  Dr.  Brinkley  had 
followed  him,  he  moved  away  in  a  moment  for  a  talk 
with  Miss  Brinkley,  whose  seat  at  table  had  been 
remote  from  his.  Suzette  combined  her  father's  cheery 
temperament  with  a  beauty  less  of  feature  than  of 
style,  inherited  from  her  mother.  She  was  a  piquant,  if 
somewhat  perplexing,  young  woman  of  great  vivacity, 
never  at  a  loss  for  words.  She  soon  lured  her  present 
companion  into  an  absorbing  argument  that  came  to 
an  end  indeterminately,  as  the  party  broke  up.  Wise 
was  almost  the  last  to  take  leave,  and  he  walked  home 
alone.  The  little  fencing-match  which  had  just  en 
gaged  his  wits  sank  into  insignificance.  His  mind  re 
verted  to  a  long  talk  at  dinner  with  Miss  Stanwood, 
who  had  shown,  as  he  believed,  keener  interest  than 
ever  before  in  him ;  and  this  seemed  a  hopeful  sign. 
Then,  remembering  how  Dr.  Brinkley  had  linked  her 
name  with  Hemming's,  he  dismissed,  at  first,  the  alarm 
ing  possibility  thus  suggested  as  too  absurd  for  serious 
consideration.  "  Paul  has  no  marriage  intentions,  I'll 
swear!  "  he  thought.  "  Yet  Brinkley  had  his  reasons; 
what  were  they,  I  should  like  to  know?  "  The  phrase, 
when  spoken,  was  scarcely  noticed;  but  now  Miss 

34 


The  Turn  of  the  Tide 

Stanwood's  lover  found  a  dreadful  portent  lurking  in 
it,  and  it  disturbed  him  not  a  little.  "  He  had  his 
reasons, — he  had  his  reasons.  That  meant  something. 
Has  she  confided  in  Dr.  Brinkley,  or  given  him,  un 
consciously,  some  clue?  Is  it  Hemming  whom  she 
loves?" 

So,  letting  his  imagination  loose,  Gordon  Wise  went 
on  to  pass  a  wretched  night,  haunted  by  jealous  fears 
like  many  a  timid  lover  before  him.  One  short,  direct 
question  would  set  his  doubts,  new  and  old,  at  rest; 
but  he  dared  not  ask  it, — yet. 

Meanwhile,  the  lights  were  put  out  in  the  Brinkleys' 
drawing-room ;  but  the  doctor  and  his  wife  sat  up  for 
a  while  by  their  chamber-fire,  comparing  notes  of  the 
dinner,  which  seemed,  on  the  whole,  to  have  gone 
off  well. 

"  The  mushrooms  were  a  success,  I  think,"  said 
Mrs.  Brinkley.  "  We  must  cook  them  again  in  that 
way.  I  wonder  who  made  that  gown  of  Nina's.  Her 
clothes  sometimes  look  as  if  they  had  been  flung  at 
her.  But  this  was  a  perfect  fit,  and  really  quite  be 
coming." 

"  What  color  was  it?  "  her  husband  asked. 

"  Why,  George !  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you've 
been  talking  to  her  for  the  last  hour,  and  don't 
know  ?  " 

"  By  the  way,"  said  the  doctor,  dismissing  his  de 
fective  observation  as  unimportant.  "  Nina  wants  to 

35 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

look  at  Hemming's  work.  Will  you  take  her,  some 
afternoon,  to  his  studio  ?  " 

"Has  Mr.  Hemming  invited  us?" 

"No;  but  he  will,  if  you  ask  him  to  do  so.  He 
has  just  finished  a  large  picture,  which  he  will  be 
glad  to  show  you.  I  should  like  to  have  you  see  it." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  will  write  to  him  to-morrow." 

"  I  told  her  that  you  would.  So  that's  off  my  mind." 
Then  the  doctor  tossed  his  cigar  into  the  fire,  sprang 
up,  threw  aside  his  coat,  and  walked  toward  his  dress 
ing-room,  humming  a  tune  as  he  went.  At  the  door 
he  stopped. 

"  To-morrow,"  he  repeated.  "  We're  dining  out 
somewhere  to-morrow,  aren't  we?" 

"Yes;  with  the  Longs." 

"  The  Longs, — yes,"  said  the  doctor,  bending  over 
his  wife's  writing-desk,  on  which  stood  her  engage 
ment-list  in  a  leather  frame.  "Oh,  Lord!  It  will 
be  duller  than  a  New  England  Sabbath!  " 

"George!!" 


IV 


TWO  days  later,  Gordon  Wise,  passing  by  chance 
within  a  block  of  his  friend's  studio,  remem 
bered  that  he  had  a  small  mission  to  perform  there. 
This  mission,  as  he  interpreted  the  promise  made  Dr. 
Brinkley,  involved  merely  a  serious  effort  on  his 
part  to  overcome  Hemming's  indifference  toward  the 
world  at  large,  without  reference  to  any  one  person 
in  particular.  But  as  he  knocked  at  the  painter's 
door,  he  could  not  help  wondering  if  the  doctor  had 
really  meant  that  he  should  bring  Miss  Stanwood  into 
his  argument,  directly  or  indirectly.  Were  this  the 
case,  Dr.  Brinkley  had  retained  the  wrong  advocate. 
No  man  could  be  expected  to  work  against  himself, 
— least  of  all,  in  matters  of  the  heart.  And  if  Hem 
ming  loved  her,  he  stood  in  no  need  of  a  prompter. 

Hemming,  who  had  stopped  work  for  the  day,  wel 
comed  his  friend  warmly,  and,  making  a  place  for 
him  among  the  heaped-up  cushions  of  the  divan  under 
his  north  window,  brought  pipes  and  tobacco. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  you  happened  to  come  in, 
Gordon,"  said  he,  "  for  I  was  on  the  point  of  writing 
to  you.  In  the  first  place,  I  want  your  help  here  on 

37 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

Friday  afternoon.     I  have  asked  Mrs.  Brinkley,  with 
one  or  two  other  pleasant  women." 

"Good!  You  may  count  on  me,"  said  Wise,  with 
a  quizzical  look,  in  which  surprise  and  amusement 
were  both  perceptible ;  for  his  intended  caution  against 
injudicious  retirement  from  the  world  seemed,  all  at 
once,  to  be  quite  unnecessary.  "A  tea-party?  Isn't 
that, — unusual?  " 

"  Yes,"  admitted  the  painter,  laughing.  "  But  I 
want  to  take  leave  of  you  decently  and  in  good  order. 
I  am  going  abroad,  you  see." 

"  Going  abroad?  "  echoed  Wise,  in  a  startled  tone. 
"  For  how  long,  pray?  " 

"  For  a  year,  at  least.  That  was  the  bit  of  news  I 
meant  to  write  you.  I  have  sold  the  '  Tithonus,'  un 
expectedly,  at  my  own  price,  that  is  all." 

Gordon  Wise  expressed  his  amazement  by  a  wreath 
of  smoke  puffed  straight  out  before  him.  "  To 
whom?"  he  asked. 

"  To  a  Chicago  magnate  whom  I  never  saw,  and 
whose  name  means  nothing  to  me.  He  is  a  friend 
of  Dr.  Brinkley,  who  acted  as  intermediary,  taking  no 
end  of  trouble  in  the  matter.  It  is  a  great  piece  of 
luck." 

"  So  it  is.  I  congratulate  you.  But  when  do  you 
go?" 

"  At  once, — next  week.  The  '  unusual '  tea-party 
is  really  my  farewell." 

38 


Art's  Firm  Votary 

"  Good!  I  am  sure  this  is  a  wise  move,  which  will 
broaden  you  and  clinch  your  hold  upon  the  public. 
But  you  will  have  to  work  hard,  Paul,  to  beat  the 
'  Tithonus.'  Is  that  the  picture  over  there?  Let  me 
have  another  look  at  it,  won't  you?" 

While  Hemming  crossed  the  room  to  uncover  his 
work,  Wise  glanced  at  a  small  book  which  lay  open 
on  the  divan  beside  him,  tossed  down  there,  evidently, 
at  the  moment  of  his  knock.  It  was  a  volume  of 
Wordsworth,  with  one  leaf  turned  in  at  the  sonnet  to 
Haydon  on  Creative  Art,  beginning  "  High  is  our 
calling,  Friend!"  Wise  knew  the  lines,  but  their 
meaning  came  home  to  him  now,  as  never  before. 
Here  was  a  friend  already  engaged  in  the  noble  strug 
gle  they  expressed.  "  Great  is  the  glory,  for  the  strife 
is  hard!  "  Hemming  had  plunged  into  the  strife  fear 
lessly;  there  lay  the  path  of  glory,  even  though  it  led 
only  to  defeat. 

"There  you  are!"  cried  the  painter,  wheeling  an 
easel  forward  into  the  clearer  light.  "  I  have  worked 
it  up  a  little;  but  I  dared  not  do  much,  and  now, 
for  good  or  ill,  it  is  signed  and  varnished,  as  you 
see." 

The  youthful,  heroic  figure,  firmly  modelled,  stood 
alone  in  a  wide  landscape,  through  which  the  fragment 
of  a  ruined  temple  rose  against  the  sky.  A  purple 
robe  lay  at  his  feet,  where  he  had  flung  down  his 
shield.  He  leaned  upon  his  spear,  turning  to  hail  the 

39 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

dawn  that  flooded  all  the  background;  and  though  the 
face  was  more  than  half  concealed,  his  attitude  de 
noted  eager  expectation.  The  pose,  very  happily 
conceived,  combined  grace  with  dignity.  Light,  air, 
and  color  seemed  to  mingle  in  the  splendid  distance, 
giving  the  whole  composition  a  fine,  poetic  quality 
which  outweighed  mere  skill  of  technique.  The  am 
bitious  scheme  in  its  execution  still  left  something  to 
be  desired.  But  if  not  a  masterpiece,  this,  even  to 
the  trained,  professional  eye,  was  extremely  interest 
ing  work — strong,  harmonious,  unconventional. 

Gordon  Wise,  though  he  made  no  pretension  to 
connoisseurship,  cared  much  for  pictures,  and,  with 
some  knowledge  of  the  best,  could  speak  of  them  in 
telligently.  He  sat  down  now  before  the  easel,  reiter 
ating  his  high  opinion  of  his  friend's  talent,  noting 
enthusiastically  certain  details  that  pleased  him. 

"  I  hope  that's  all  true,"  said  Hemming,  smiling  at 
the  not  too  impartial  criticism,  "  and  that  I  may  not 
want  to  paint  it  all  out  when  I  come  back." 

"  In  the  light  of  such  a  possibility,  I  protest  against 
your  going,"  Wise  replied.  "  A  little  Europe  is  a 
dangerous  thing." 

"  Come  with  me,  then,  and  protect  me  against  my 
self,  to  say  nothing  of  the  dead  masters.  Come!  You 
can't  do  better." 

"  I  agree  to  that.  Yet  I  am  forced  into  doing  worse, 
just  now." 

40 


Art's  Firm  Votary 

"  But  now  is  the  only  moment.  Think  of  the  hit 
you  have  made  !  Think  of  Stahlberg !  " 

"  My  dear  Paul,  art  hath  bubbles  as  the  water  has, 
and  these  are  of  them." 

"  Decidedly,  you  will  not  leap  into  the  flood!  "  said 
Hemming,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Some  time  I  may.  At  present  I  am  fettered  by 
an  infernal  prudence,  and  by — no  matter!  Call  me 
anything  you  like,  and  be  thankful  that  you're  not 
like  me.  Good-by,  old  man.  I'll  see  you  on  Friday 
with  the  women!  "  So,  somewhat  abruptly,  the  com 
rades  parted. 

When  Wise  returned  to  the  studio  on  the  day  in 
dicated  the  small  company  of  invited  guests,  includ 
ing  the  Brinkleys,  the  Barringtons,  and,  of  course, 
Miss  Stanwood,  had  already  assembled.  A  bowl  of 
fresh  violets  stood  upon  the  table,  and  the  bright,  airy 
room  had  been  swept  and  garnished  in  honor  of  the 
"  Tithonus,"  which,  occupying  the  central  place,  was 
duly  admired  and,  according  to  the  painter's  inward 
judgment,  overpraised.  Thankful  that  he  had  asked 
but  a  dozen  friends  in  all,  Hemming  longed  to  escape 
from  their  fine  phrases,  which  must  be  due,  in  some 
measure,  to  civility;  yet  when  Barrington  took  him 
aside  to  buy  his  first  rough  sketch  for  the  picture  on 
the  spot,  the  material  advantages  of  such  a  private 
view  as  this  were  at  once  apparent.  Dr.  Brinkley, 
who  had  secretly  incited  his  cousin  to  make  the  pur- 

41 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

chase,  saw  what  was  going  forward,  and  his  spirits 
rose  in  consequence,  setting  a  lively  pace,  which  all 
took  up. 

As  the  northern  light  faded  a  little  and  the  tea  went 
round,  the  party  grew  merrier,  and  Gordon  Wise, 
looking  with  a  lover's  eyes,  found  Miss  Stanwood  the 
soul  of  it.  Never,  thought  he,  was  she  so  radiantly 
beautiful.  All  the  quaint  equipments  of  the  studio 
excited  her  keenest  interest;  she  insisted  upon  holding 
the  palette,  upon  trying  the  brushes,  and  laughed  at 
the  awkwardness  of  her  attempt  to  handle  them.  She 
asked  curious  questions  concerning  the  decorative 
objects  scattered  about,  and  when  she  moved  aside 
to  examine  one  of  these  more  closely,  Wise  joined 
her.  They  went  on  from  point  to  point,  at  last  sitting 
down  together  in  a  corner  which  commanded  a  very 
good  view  of  the  picture  that  they  had  come  to  see. 
Miss  Stanwood  turned  toward  it  again,  with  sincere 
admiration. 

"  What  happiness  to  do  a  thing  like  that !  "  said  she. 
"  Out  of  a  clear  sky — with  one's  own  unaided  effort ! 
The  more  I  look  at  it  the  finer  it  seems  to  be." 

"  Yes,"  Wise  agreed,  "  he  has  put  his  heart  into 
this  picture,  and  now  it  brings  him  the  reward." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  sale  of  it  enables  him  to  go  abroad." 

"  Ah !  indeed  ?  I  did  not  understand  this, — I  did 
not  know — 

42 


Art's  Firm  Votary 

"  You  knew  that  he  was  going?  " 

"  Yes;  but  not  that  his  journey  had  depended  upon 
the  sale  of  this  picture.  Is  he  to  be  long  away?  " 

Turning,  as  she  asked  this,  Nina  Stanwood  thought 
that  she  detected  in  her  companion's  face  a  look  which 
she  had  never  seen  there  before, — an  attentive  look, 
as  if  he  were  interested  in  watching  her.  She  had 
an  excellent  reason  for  wishing  to  appear  uncon 
cerned,  and  gave  no  sign  of  self-consciousness.  His 
intent  expression  passed  off,  and  she  concluded,  a 
moment  later,  that  it  had  existed  only  in  her  own 
imagination. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  Wise  answered.  "  I  think  he 
does  not  know  himself;  he  stands  pledged,  body  and 
soul,  to  his  art.  If  his  career  demands  it,  he  will  stay 
away, — indefinitely.  He  has  passed  the  turning-point, 
and  is  beyond  the  reach  of  other  considerations.  This 
attitude  toward  the  rest  of  us  his  success  with  the  '  Ti- 
thonus '  confirms.  He  is  like  a  monk  in  a  cloister, 
and  we,  who  stand  outside  the  gate,  can  only  ap 
plaud  his  strength  of  purpose,  as  I  do  most  heartily. 
Yet  I  could  not  be  like  him  if  I  tried." 

"Is  that  what  art  means?"  asked  Nina,  gravely. 
"  Is  there  no  way  to  succeed  in  it  but  that?  " 

"  No  half  way,  surely.  It  has  always  been  a  fight 
since  time  was.  Now  it  is  a  fight  against  fearful  odds, 
requiring  the  closest  concentration.  Paul  understands 
this,  and  accepts  the  conditions." 

43 


The    Courage  of  Conviction 

Nina  stirred  in  her  place  and  tapped  her  foot  im 
patiently.  "  I  don't  like  it !  "  she  declared  in  a  tone 
of  vexation.  "  It  is  all  so  narrow  and  so  selfish.  The 
world  is  not  a  cloister.  If  we  are  bound  to  make 
our  way  in  it,  we  are  bound  to  think  now  and  then 
of  others." 

"  Of  others,"  repeated  Wise,  with  a  smile.  "  Why, 
what  else  is  Paul  doing?  Look  at  his  work,  which 
gives  us  all  the  deepest  pleasure.  It's  a  case  of  pre 
destination.  The  elements  in  him  have  conspired  to 
make  that  his  mission.  For  Heaven's  sake,  let  him 
go  on  and  fulfil  it !  " 

Nina  looked  once  more  at  the  glowing  canvas,  which 
seemed  to  plead  a  silent  argument  in  favor  of  art's 
sacrifices.  "  Yes,  I  suppose  that  is  all  true!"  she 
sighed.  "  And  yet —  Just  then  there  came  a  pre 
monitory  stir  of  departure  in  the  room.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  the  little  party  must  now  break  up.  "  They 
are  going,"  she  said,  rising  to  put  on  her  veil;  "  I 
must  go,  too." 

She  moved  forward  with  Wise  into  the  chattering 
group,  which,  after  one  or  two  false  starts,  still  lin 
gered  as  such  groups  will.  Hemming  delayed  it 
further  by  distributing  his  violets  among  the  ladies. 
When  this  was  done  Dr.  Brinkley  plucked  him  by 
the  sleeve. 

"When  do  you  sail?"  he  asked. 

"  In  four  days — on  Wednesday.  By  the  way,  give 
44 


Art's  Firm   Votary 

me  directions  about  the  '  Tithonus.'  It  must  be 
packed,  you  know.  Where  am  I  to  send  it?  " 

"  Ah,  precisely,"  the  doctor  answered.  "  Let  me 
attend  to  that,  if  you  will.  I  want  to  enter  it  for  the 
spring  exhibition,  which  opens  here  next  month. 
There  can  be  no  objection  to  that,  I  suppose, — cer 
tainly  not  from  my  purchaser." 

"  Nor  from  me,  you  may  be  sure,"  said  Hemming, 
laughing. 

"  Very  well,  then,  send  it  round  to  me.  I  will 
assume  all  responsibilities  on  behalf  of  the  owner,  and 
when  the  exhibition  closes  will  see  that  it  is  forwarded 
— to  Chicago." 

"  Good !  You  shall  have  it  to-morrow.  Once  more, 
a  thousand  thanks  for  all  your  kindness  in  this  busi 
ness." 

"  Good-by !  "  said  Dr.  Brinkley,  shaking  his  hand 
warmly. 

"  Good-by !  "  echoed  the  others  in  a  general  chorus. 

There  were  more  last  words  at  the  street-door,  to 
which  Hemming  followed  them.  Then  a  final  wave 
of  the  hand  from  each  of  the  carriages  as  it  drove 
away.  He  watched  the  last  one  turn  the  corner,  and 
went  slowly  back  to  the  silent  studio,  which  looked 
cold  and  gray  in  the  gathering  twilight. 

"How  sweet  those  violets  were!"  he  thought. 
"  The  air  is  heavy  with  them  still."  Then  he  saw 
that  a  handful  of  the  flowers  still  lay  on  a  corner  of 

45 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

the  table,  where  they  had  been  left,  for  the  moment 
apparently,  by  one  of  his  guests,  and  forgotten.  He 
smiled,  wondering  to  whom  they  belonged;  and,  as 
he  took  them  up,  a  carriage  rolled  into  the  quiet  street; 
it  stopped  before  his  door.  He  sprang  to  the  window 
in  time  to  see  a  woman,  whose  face  he  could  not  dis 
tinguish,  entering  the  house.  Light  steps  passed  up 
the  stairs,  and,  anticipating  her  knock,  he  met  on 
the  threshold  Miss  Nina  Stanwood.  She  broke  into  a 
gentle,  rippling  laugh  at  seeing  her  violets  in  Hem- 
ming's  hand. 

"Ah!  you  found  them!  Forgive  me;  it  was  very 
stupid.  I  could  not  bear  to  leave  them  behind." 

"  Come  in — please  do!  "  he  urged.  "  You  are  quite 
out  of  breath.  For  a  moment's  rest, — if  only  for  a 
moment." 

His  insistence  overcame  her  hesitation,  and  she 
stepped  forward  into  the  room  timidly,  with  a  curious 
glance  through  her  veil  at  its  dim,  remote  corners,  as 
if  she  were  seeing  the  place  for  the  first  time.  He 
wheeled  up  a  chair,  but  she  only  leaned  against  it, 
smiling  and  extending  her  hand  for  the  flowers.  When 
he  gave  them  to  her,  she  bent  over  the  fragrant  petals. 

"  Thank  you  for  coming  back,"  said  he;  "  it  was  so 
much  to  do  for  so  little." 

"  I  may  as  well  confess  the  truth  at  once,"  she  re 
plied,  tremulously.  "  I  left  the  violets  here  on  pur 
pose." 

46 


Art's  Firm  Votary 

"  Thank  you  all  the  more !  "  he  returned,  concealing 
his  surprise  with  an  effort. 

"  I  wanted,  you  see,  to  ask  a  favor  of  you, — a  great 
favor, — one  that  you  will  not  grant,  I  am  afraid, 
but— 

"  Go  on!  "  he  said,  after  a  moment's  pause,  in  which 
he  wondered  more  and  more.  "  What  is  the  favor? 
I  will  grant  it,  if  I  can;  if  not,  I  will  say  so  frankly." 

"  Mr.  Wise  has  told  me  what  your  work  means  to 
you,"  she  answered.  "  I  understand  that  you  must 
take  time,  and  thought,  and  concentration  to  do  your 
best.  I  know  the  importance  of  this,  but  I  cannot 
think  it  should  be  all-important.  I  think,  on  the  con 
trary,  that  to  make  it  so  would  be  a  terrible  mistake." 

"  All-important?  It  should  be  everything.  There 
can  be  no  half  way — 

"Yes,  yes;  he  said  so!"  she  interposed,  hastily. 
"  But  look  at  this  picture,  which  we  have  all  admired. 
It  has  sold  well,  they  say;  it  is  a  triumph.  The  work 
involved  sacrifices,  but  not  overwhelming  ones;  they 
did  not  cut  you  off  wholly  from  the  world.  If  you 
make  yourself  the  galley-slave  of  art,  what  will  you 
gain  by  it?  Here  is  the  '  Tithonus.'  You  can't  do 
better." 

"  Not  do  better?  "  he  cried,  with  rising  irritation. 
"  Why,  I  live  only  for  that !  This  picture  is  a  mere 
beginning.  The  men  who  really  know  would  laugh 
at  it.  Give  me  the  years  I  need  among  them,  and 

47 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

I  shall  long  to  cut  it  from  the  frame.  It  is  half- 
knowledge  which  kills  us  here.  I  must  have  more,  or 
nothing.  Not  do  better?  Wait  and  see!  " 

"  I  see  that  it  is  hopeless,"  she  said,  in  a  disap 
pointed  tone,  moving  toward  the  door  as  she  spoke. 
"  Your  mind  is  made  up,  and  no  argument  will  in 
fluence  it.  To  ask  my  favor  now  would  be  a  waste 
of  time." 

"  You  need  not,  for  I  am  sure  that  I  know  it  with 
out  the  asking.  You  were  going  to  beg  me  to  re 
consider  my  plans  and  change  them;  to  stay  here  and 
work  upon  the  self-same  lines;  to  paint  my  '  Tithonus  ' 
over  again,  and  after  that  another,  and  still  another." 

"  And  would  this  seem  to  you  a  great  misfortune  ?  " 

"  The  greatest, — even  supposing  that  it  were  pos 
sible.  Not  to  advance  is  to  go  backward.  If  I  am 
ever  to  do  anything  of  real  value,  the  course  I  have 
chosen  is  the  wisest.  In  fact,  it  is  the  only  one." 

"  I  see,"  she  answered,  with  a  change  of  manner, 
slight  yet  significant.  "  You  have  chosen.  Please 
remember  that  I  asked  you  nothing."  Her  hand  was 
already  at  the  door,  which,  now,  she  opened. 

"  Wait  a  moment!  "  he  pleaded.  "  I  am  very  sorry. 
And  I  am  grateful,  most  grateful,  for  your  interest  in 
my  work.  Surely,  you  understand  that,"  he  added, 
holding  out  his  hand. 

She  clasped  it  for  an  instant,  lightly.  "  Oh,  we  shall 
always  take  the  same  interest,  wherever  you  are.  We 

48 


Art's  Firm  Votary 

shall  always  wish  for  it  the  highest  honors.  No,  you 
must  not  come  down!  "  And  she  was  gone,  fluttering 
through  the  lower  darkness  as  if  her  feet  were  winged. 
He  heard  the  clang  of  the  outer  door,  the  sharp  snap 
of  the  carriage-door  beyond  it,  the  rumble  of  the 
wheels — all  in  the  same  swift  moment,  as  it  seemed, 
while  he  stood  staring  at  the  unlighted  staircase.  It 
had  been  too  dark  to  see  her  face,  but  he  would  have 
sworn  that  her  gloved  hand  had  trembled, — that  her 
voice  had  trembled,  too,  in  that  final  speech,  so  per 
functory  as  almost  to  be  indifferent.  "'We!'"  he 
repeated,  bitterly.  '  We ! ' :  Clearly,  she  was  of 
fended.  The  thought  gave  him  a  sharp  pang  which 
he  had  never  known  before.  He  resisted  it,  resented 
it;  yet  it  returned  again  and  again  that  night,  until, 
long  before  morning,  he  had  resolved  to  see  her  once 
more  and  make  his  peace  with  her.  But  when  morn 
ing  came  he  busied  himself  with  preparations  for  de 
parture,  and  the  resolution  melted  away.  What  fur 
ther  could  he  say  or  do?  He  did  not  call,  he  sent 
no  word,  and,  without  seeing  her  again,  he  sailed  on 
the  appointed  day. 


49 


V 

UNDER    CHARITABLE   STARS 

T~\  ISCERNING  persons  who  had  the  opportunity 
-*— '  of  forming  an  opinion  in  the  matter  often  de 
clared  that  Dr.  Brinkley,  fortunate  in  many  things, 
was  thrice  fortunate  in  his  wife.  Before  marriage, 
as  Susan  Leslie,  by  ready  wit  and  unfailing  tact  she 
had  swiftly  made  good  her  claim  to  the  enviable 
social  position  she  inherited,  becoming  later  through 
out  her  large  circle  of  acquaintances  an  acknowledged 
leader,-  with  no  effort  on  her  part  toward  that  dis 
tinction.  When  she  married,  her  title  to  it  was  at 
once  confirmed.  She  had  sufficient  worldliness  to 
enjoy  the  duties  incumbent  upon  her,  and  to  perform 
them  well.  But  she  was  a  woman  of  fine  tastes  and 
strong  sympathies,  by  no  means  superficial,  neither 
self-centred  nor  assuming.  The  husband  and  wife  who 
live  in  perfect  accord  grow  to  resemble  each  other, 
as  is  well  known.  And  Susan  Brinkley  had  grown 
very  like  her  husband,  lacking  his  repose  and  strength, 
to  be  sure,  but  substituting  for  these  certain  feminine 
subtleties  which  he  had  not.  Many  liked  her,  all  re 
spected  her;  and  her  influence  widened  with  his,  until 
she  might  have  been  called  a  power  in  the  community; 

50 


Under  Charitable  Stars 

a  power,  however,  exerted  always  for  good  ends,  never 
abused,  controlling  more  by  suggestion  and  example 
than  by  authoritative  force. 

It  was  thus  both  natural  and  desirable  that  Mrs. 
Brinkley's  name  should  figure  prominently  in  the  lists 
of  many  organized  charities;  and  when  a  certain  chil 
dren's  hospital  needed  a  large  sum  of  money,  she  was, 
of  course,  among  the  first  consulted  as  to  the  best 
means  of  raising  it.  After  one  or  two  meetings  she 
found  the  matter  left  practically  in  her  hands,  the  re 
sult  being  that  she  undertook  to  get  up  an  amateur 
dramatic  performance  on  a  stated  afternoon  in  a  theatre 
hired  for  the  occasion.  She  assumed  the  responsi 
bility  of  this  decision  not  without  misgiving.  For, 
in  order  to  draw  the  town,  novelty  had  been  deemed 
essential  in  any  scheme  adopted;  and  there  was,  alas, 
nothing  novel  in  the  proposed  amateur  theatricals  ex 
cept  their  semi-public  character.  The  exception, 
undeniably  slight,  turned  the  scale  that  way.  Since 
none  of  the  chosen  performers  had  ever  appeared  on 
a  real  stage  with  real  scenery,  especially,  perhaps,  since 
a  fair,  the  one  obvious  alternative,  had  been  eloquently 
attacked  by  a  member  of  the  committee,  who  declared 
that  she  had  dragged  herself  through  fairs  and  fairs 
and  fairs,  until  she  was  fairly  worn  out.  This  speech 
settled  the  question.  The  plays  were  selected,  the 
rehearsals  began  under  the  eye  of  a  professional  stage- 
manager,  and  the  administration  of  all  matters  before 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

the  curtain, — "  in  front,"  as  the  manager  expressed 
it, — was  given  to  Mrs.  Brinkley. 

That  no  means  of  drawing  the  town  might  be  neg 
lected,  she  prepared  an  imposing  list  of  lady-pa 
tronesses,  who  were  all  instructed  to  look  their  best, 
with  the  view  of  making  the  audience  itself  a  sight 
worth  seeing.  She  put  an  exorbitant  price  upon  the 
tickets,  and  arranged  that  the  boxes  should  be  sold 
at  auction.  But  with  these  details  irrevocably  fixed, 
as  the  day  of  the  sale  approached,  Mrs.  Brinkley  was 
haunted  by  a  possibility  of  failure.  Would  the  town 
rise  to  its  great  opportunity  of  seeing  two  or  three 
hackneyed  plays  indifferently  well  acted  under  irre 
proachable  patronage?  The  theatre  was  large,  the 
outlay  enormous,  and,  unless  the  public  rallied  with 
enthusiasm,  the  accounts  would  show  little  profit; 
perhaps  even  a  loss.  It  was  late  in  the  season,  to 
begin  with;  then,  too,  the  entertainment  lacked  nov 
elty.  She  had  always  said  so,  and  now  she  felt  it  in 
her  bones.  This  osseous  premonition  led  to  sleepless 
nights,  which  produced  low  spirits.  Her  husband  in 
vain  implored  her  to  be  hopeful.  She  replied  that  it 
was  best  to  look  the  worst  in  the  face,  and  found  her 
only  satisfaction  in  doing  so. 

Such  was  the  troubled  state  of  Mrs.  Brinkley's  mind 
one  morning  at  the  breakfast-table,  where  she  sat  lost 
in  thought,  while  the  doctor  plunged  into  his  news 
paper  and  sipped  his  coffee  between  the  paragraphs. 

52 


Under  Charitable  Stars 

Then  came  the  post,  bringing  her  many  letters,  which 
she  welcomed  as  a  distraction,  only  to  find  that  most 
of  these  involved  her  in  new  perplexities  over  the 
all-important  subject.  She  brushed  them  aside,  and 
took  up  one  of  more  promise,  bearing  a  French  post 
mark.  It  was,  in  fact,  from  one  of  her  intimate  friends, 
who  had  been  for  some  time  abroad. 

"A  foreign  letter,  Sue?  "  asked  Dr.  Brinkley,  look 
ing  up. 

"  Yes,  from  Alice  Heath,  in  Paris.  There,  we  ought 
to  have  done  that !  "  she  answered  mysteriously  as  she 
turned  the  sheet. 

"  Done  what,  my  dear?  " 

"  She  has  been  to  a  bazaar,  George ;  a  great  suc 
cess  it  was.  We  might  have  had  one  for  the  hospital, 
instead  of  these  awful  theatricals." 

Dr.  Brinkley  looked  puzzled.  "  What  is  a  bazaar?  " 
he  inquired. 

"  Why,  a  sale.  Don't  be  stupid,  George!  The  thing 
they  have  in  Turkey, — shops  full  of  delightful  little 
objects  with  the  prices  marked  on  them!" 

"How  does  it  differ  from  a  fair,  then?  I  thought 
you  ruled  that  out  very  wisely." 

"  Well,  it  is  a  kind  of  fair,  I  suppose;  but  the  name 
is  new,  and  that  goes  a  great  way.  Then  there  are 
all  sorts  of  new  features,"  said  Mrs.  Brinkley,  return 
ing  to  her  letter.  "  It  must  have  been  lovely,  as  Alice 
describes  it.  I  declare,  we  might  do  that  ourselves! 
Oh,  I've  got  it,  George!" 

53 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  I  congratulate  you  heartily,  if  '  it '  is  something 
worth  having.  What  is  it,  please?" 

"  The  way  to  make  this  affair  of  ours  an  over 
whelming  success!"  his  wife  almost  screamed  in  her 
excitement.  "  There  is  ample  time,  and  I  shall  just  take 
a  leaf  out  of  Alice's  letter,  that's  all!  "  Then,  to  her 
daughter,  who  came  in  at  the  moment,  she  added: 
"  Suzette,  listen  to  me!  "  and  went  on  to  explain  her 
hastily  formed  scheme  of  incorporating  with  her  char 
itable  entertainment  some  important  features  of  the 
Parisian  bazaar.  There  were  to  be  flower-girls  in  cos 
tume  offering  their  wares  between  the  acts;  pro 
grammes  distributed  at  the  door  by  two  well-known 
leaders  of  fashion;  tea  served  in  the  lobby  by  other 
distinguished  persons,  young  and  old.  In  fifteen 
minutes,  while  the  doctor  contemplated  his  eager 
family  with  a  wondering  smile,  the  whole  plan  was 
drawn  up,  and  Mrs.  Brinkley  at  last  breathed  freely. 
She  had  hit  upon  the  much-desired  novelty  for  which 
she  had  groped  so  long  in  the  dark.  No  one  could 
doubt  that  these  side-issues  of  the  show,  properly 
advertised,  would  give  it  a  distinctive  character,  would 
contribute  much  in  themselves  to  swell  the  treasurer's 
receipts,  and,  above  all,  would  draw  the  town. 

When  the  curtain  rose  for  the  first  time,  on  the  great 
afternoon,  Mrs.  Brinkley  sat  in  her  box,  pale  and  tired 
yet  inwardly  triumphant,  congratulating  herself  over 
and  over  again  upon  the  successful  issue  of  her  labors. 

54 


Under  Charitable  Stars 

Her  wildest  hopes  were  outdone,  for  the  town  had 
snapped  at  its  bait,  and  the  theatre  was  crowded  to 
suffocation ;  the  large  sum  already  assured  to  the  hos 
pital  would  be  increased  by  the  sale  of  flowers,  returns 
from  which  were  still  to  come  in.  That  happy  after 
thought  of  hers,  approved  by  the  committee,  had  been 
well  worked  out  to  the  advantage  of  all  concerned.  The 
flower-girls  (among  whom  her  own  daughter  and 
Miss  Nina  Stanwood  were  pleasantly  conspicuous), 
uniformly  dressed  in  a  most  becoming  way,  found  so 
ready  a  market  that  their  first  supply  of  roses  was 
nearly  exhausted.  Whatever  critical  verdict  awaited 
the  performance,  all  financial  problems  connected  with 
it  were  now  gloriously  solved. 

The  first  play  passed  off  very  smoothly,  all  things 
considered,  and  when  the  recalls  were  over,  the  flower- 
market  opened  again.  Suzette  fluttered  in  for  a  mo 
ment,  all  aglow. 

"  Oh,  mamma !  It's  such  fun  !  I  have  made  forty 
dollars, — and  look  !  Not  a  single  rose  left !  "  Her 
mother,  after  thoughtfully  adjusting  Suzette's  cap  and 
muslin  apron,  stated  where  the  wicker  tray,  which  she 
carried,  could  be  replenished ;  and  the  girl  hurried 
away.  Then  Gordon  Wise,  who  was  one  of  the  ushers, 
appeared  at  the  door  of  the  box  ,  showing  in  Dr. 
Brinkley,  flushed  with  the  struggle  of  his  late  arrival, 
yet  wearing  a  splendid  rose-bud  in  his  button-hole. 

"  Where  did  you  get  that,  George?  "  his  wife  asked. 
55 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  There !  "  he  replied,  indicating  Nina  Stanwood, 
who  came  slowly  down  one  of  the  aisles,  offering  her 
flowers  right  and  left. 

"  Oh,  from  Nina !    The  dress  suits  her,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed,  following  with  his  eyes  the  cos 
tume  and  its  wearer,  while  his  brow  wrinkled  expres 
sively.  Then  he  said :  "  I  wish  I  understood  your  sex  a 
little  better,  Sue." 

She  turned  upon  him  with  a  merry  look.  "  What  on 
earth  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that  pretty  girl  there,  who  inter 
ests  me  immensely,  handicapped  as  she  has  been  in 
many  ways.  I  wonder  what  sentence  is  reserved  for 
her  in  this  world's  judgment-book ;  a  few  weeks  ago  I 
hoped  it  would  be  a  light  one ;  I  thought  her  happy 
future  assured,  so  far  as  the  assurance  of  an  elusive 
quantity  is  possible.  But  now  I  can't  help  fearing  that 
I  was  wholly  wrong." 

"  Why,  George !  "  cried  Mrs.  Brinkley,  immensely 
interested  now,  herself.  "  Pray  how  had  you  settled 
Nina's  fate?  Tell  me!" 

The  doctor  laughed.  "  My  wish  was  at  the  bottom  of 
it  all,  I  suppose,  for  I  like  the  man  extremely.  I  hoped 
she  would  marry  Paul  Hemming.  I  had  reason  to 
think  that  she  took  uncommon  interest  in  him.  And 
now,  when  his  name  is  mentioned,  she  won't  listen  to 
it.  Either  the  interest  had  no  real  existence,  or  it  has 
undergone  a  change." 

56 


Under  Charitable  Stars 

"  Oh !  And  did  you  think  that  Paul  Hemming  cared 
for  her?" 

"  Yes.     I  fancied  so,  certainly." 

"  Well,  George,  that  being  the  case,  his  way  of  show 
ing  it  is  certainly  a  strange  one.  He  has  gone  abroad 
to  live  indefinitely.  How  could  you  expect  the  girl's 
interest  not  to  undergo  a  change,  if,  as  is  more  than 
likely,  he  went  without  speaking?  " 

"  '  If  he  went  without  speaking ! '  "  repeated  the  doc 
tor,  thoughtfully.  "  He  did  that  undoubtedly ;  and  it 
is  all  a  question  of  pique  with  her,  I  suppose.  It  would 
be  just  like  him  to  love  her  to  distraction,  and  yet  feel 
that  he  had  no  right  to  speak, — in  view  of  art's  uncer 
tainties.  She  ought  to  divine  his  reason,  and  love  him 
all  the  more." 

"  What  an  argument !  "  said  Mrs.  Brinkley,  tossing 
her  head  impatiently.  "  Now,  George,  it  is  your  sex 
which  deserves  to  be  called  incomprehensible.  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  the  question  of  love  should 
outweigh  all  others.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  his  uncer 
tainties  of  art,  or  blame  her  for  indifference  which  I 
believe  is  fully  warranted.  If  Paul  Hemming  really 
loved  Nina  Stanwood,  his  first  duty  was  to  tell  her  so. 
Imagine  your  behaving  toward  me  in  that  ridiculous, 
Quixotic  fashion !  I  should  have  had  no  patience  with 
you !  " 

"Quixotic!  Yes !"  sighed  her  husband.  "That's 
the  word  for  him !  I  wonder  if  all  artists  must  be  so. 

57 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

It  sometimes  seems  as  if  their  success  were  in  propor 
tion  to  their  unhappy  isolation  from  the  rest  of  us.  One 
might  make  a  proverb  out  of  that,  like  the  old  one  about 
love  and  cards.  Happy  in  art,  unhappy  in  the  heart! 
There  you  are !  " 

"  I  have  no  sympathy  with  faint  hearts,"  Mrs.  Brink- 
ley  rejoined.  "  If  that  is  Mr.  Hemming's  trouble, 
why,  he  deserves  to  lose  her.  She  need  not  go  into 
mourning  on  his  account.  There  are  other  young 
men,  as  you  see." 

In  fact,  while  they  were  speaking,  Miss  Stanwood, 
in  the  aisle  below  them,  had  been  joined  by  Gordon 
Wise,  who  quickly  possessed  himself  of  her  few  re 
maining  roses.  He  whispered  something,  at  which  she 
smiled ;  and  they  moved  away  together  into  the  crowd, 
passing  on,  just  as  the  curtain  rose,  to  some  vacant  seats 
in  the  second  tier,  at  the  very  back  of  the  theatre.  Here, 
half  in  shadow  and  entirely  free  from  observation,  they 
could  watch  the  play  and  comment  upon  it  to  their 
hearts'  content  without  fear  of  disturbing  a  single  spec 
tator. 

The  comedy  was  a  pretty,  clever  trifle  translated 
from  the  French  of  Octave  Feuillet  and  dealing  with 
the  fortunes  of  a  timid  lover.  While  its  plot  and  action 
were  of  the  slightest,  the  characters  were  well  con 
trasted  and  the  brilliant  dialogue  needed  no  extraordi 
nary  talent  for  its  effect.  The  emotion,  studiously  re 
pressed  for  the  most  part,  revealed  itself  here  and  there 

58 


Under  Charitable  Stars 

by  a  word  or  suggestion  simply  and  directly,  so  that  the 
players  were  never  badly  overweighted  in  attempting 
its  portrayal;  and  they  were  soon  set  at  ease  by  the 
friendly  audience,  stirred  into  hearty  approval  of  the 
Frenchman's  skill  in  handling  his  well-worn  theme. 
It  was  a  triumph  for  the  comedie  de  salon,  which  al 
most  justified  this  pale  offshoot  of  a  sturdy  art. 
Toward  the  close  the  principal  performers,  yielding  to 
the  sympathetic  current,  so  far  forgot  themselves  as 
to  play  extremely  well.  In  the  final  scene,  the  heroine, 
becoming  more  than  half  the  wooer,  vainly  tried  to  give 
her  devoted  admirer  courage  to  commit  himself ;  and 
when,  at  last,  his  proposal  was  brought  about  through 
an  accident,  she  promptly  confessed  that  she  had  loved 
him  for  years.  The  play  ended  with  this  discovery  on 
her  part,  and  the  humorous  expression  on  his  of  un 
availing  regret  for  time  wasted.  It  was  all  new  to  Gor 
don  Wise,  who,  as  the  action  advanced,  began  to  find 
in  the  unheroic  hero's  desperate  case  a  likeness  to  his 
own.  The  whispered  talk  between  him  and  Miss  Stan- 
wood  died  away.  She  watched  the  stage  in  silence; 
while  he,  stealthily  watching  her  at  intervals,  noticed 
that  in  spite  of  her  unconscious  smile  the  color  deepened 
in  her  cheeks.  Had  she  found  that  likeness,  then,  as 
well  as  he  ? 

Thus,  for  a  few  moments,  they  sat  oppressively  silent 
after  the  curtain  fell,  until  more  than  half  the  audience 
had  streamed  past  them  toward  the  lobby,  there  to  while 

59 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

away  the  long  wait.  Then,  left  opportunely  alone  with 
her,  Gordon  Wise  at  last  forced  himself  to  speak  in  hur 
ried,  broken  phrases,  which  gradually  grew  more  co 
herent,  as  if  the  sound  of  his  own  voice  gave  him  cour 
age.  Her  color  came  and  went,  now  flushing  every 
feature  of  the  lovely  face  from  which  he  could  not  turn 
his  eyes,  now  leaving  it  ominously  pale.  But  she  did 
not  interrupt  him  by  any  sign  or  word.  Encouraging 
as  this  was,  it  did  not  satisfy  him ;  and  the  moment  came 
when  he  stopped  short  with  a  demand  for  something 
more. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  faintly,  with  downcast 
eyes.  "  I  cannot  answer  you ;  I  never  dreamed  of  this." 

"  No ;  how  should  you  ?  I  am  like  the  man  in  the 
play.  Had  I  only  dared,  I  would  have  told  you  months 
ago." 

"  Months  ago !  How  is  that  possible  ?  You  could 
care  so  much,  and  never  speak !  " 

"  If  you  knew  how  often  I  have  tried !  But  even  now 
I  cannot  find  the  words.  I  love  you — I  love  you,  that 
is  all." 

There  was  genuine  feeling  in  his  voice,  and  he 
trembled,  as  she  turned  toward  him  with  startled  eyes, 
which,  he  perceived,  were  full  of  tears.  He  tried  to 
take  her  hand,  but  she  drew  it  away. 

"  And  you  say  nothing,"  he  continued.  "  You  will 
not  answer  me  ?  " 

"  I— I  can't." 

60 


Under  Charitable  Stars 

"Why?    Is  there  someone  else,  then?" 

"  No,  there  is  no  one  else,"  she  declared,  with  an  em 
phatic  promptness  which  gave  him  a  world  of  hope. 
Whereupon,  as  if  conscious  of  this,  she  did  her  best  to 
destroy  the  effect  of  her  hasty  admission. 

"  I  am  very  sorry.  I  like  you,  but  that  is  not 
enough, — and  that  is  all  I  can  say." 

"  But " 

"  Go !  Please,  please  go-!  "  she  insisted.  And  upon 
this  reiterated  word,  he  broke  off  impatiently;  and, 
eager  now  to  be  alone,  went  out  into  the  corridor. 
There,  however,  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the 
world  again.  Acquaintances  came  up  to  perplex  him 
with  one  important  question  after  another,  which,  in  his 
official  capacity,  he  was  obliged  to  answer;  in  the 
process  regaining  his  composure  before  any  question  of 
its  loss  arose.  That  they  did  not  even  suspect  the  pre 
occupied  state  of  his  mind  he  was  sure.  The  warning 
bell  rang,  and  they  all  hurried  back  to  their  places. 
While  he,  caring  nothing  for  the  play,  wandered  out 
side  from  one  swing-door  to  another,  until  he  had  dis 
covered  Miss  Stanwood,  seated  in  a  box  now  with  a 
merry  party.  She  appeared  to  be  following  the  play 
intently,  provokingly  at  ease.  He  must  speak  with  her 
if  possible,  at  least  come  into  her  presence  once  more 
before  leaving  the  theatre;  and  for  this  he  waited, 
watching  unseen  until  the  curtain  had  fallen  for  the 
last  time.  Then,  keeping  her  always  in  sight,  he  made 

61 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

his  way  through  the  crowd  toward  the  door  of  the  tea 
room  through  which  she  passed  a  few  steps  in  advance 
of  him  with  her  group  of  friends.  He  observed  that 
from  them  her  glance  strayed  continually.  For  whom, 
then,  was  she  looking?  He  stood  in  the  background 
long  enough  to  determine  this,  as  he  thought ;  and  so, 
pressing  on,  brushed  by  the  group  and  whispered  over 
her  shoulder : 

"  Have  you  no  more  to  say?  " 

She  turned,  met  his  look,  immediately  looked  away. 
"  No,"  she  whispered  back.  He  said  no  more,  but,  as 
he  passed  out,  saw  that  she  stood  alone  in  the  crowd, 
pulling  one  of  her  gloves  into  shape  abstractedly. 

"  That  '  no  '  means  '  yes,'  "  he  muttered.  "  For  I 
will  take  no  other  answer." 

On  his  way  home  he  stopped  at  a  florist's,  and,  adding 
fresh  roses  to  those  he  had  bought  of  her,  which  he  still 
carried,  sent  them  all  to  Miss  Stanwood ;  but  without 
his  card,  or  any  written  reminder  of  his  existence. 

"  She  will  know  from  whom  they  came,"  he  thought ; 
"  and  she  will  not  return  them,  I'll  swear !  " 

Nor  did  she. 


62 


VI 

THE   THORNS   OF    CONQUEST 

"  "N  T  O !  I  ain't  got  nothing  against  you,  as  I  know 
•1  ^  of,"  said  Mr.  Stanwood,  with  nervous  indif 
ference  to  syntax ;  "  it  ain't  that,  you  understand.  But 
it  ain't  what  I  expected  for  Nina,  neither.  You  may  as 
well  understand  that,  Mr.  Wise, — jest  as  well,  first  as 
last." 

And  then  Gordon  Wise,  feeling  that  one  of  the  most 
trying  hours  in  his  experience  was  over,  confessed  his 
own  unworthiness,  but  pledged  himself  to  toil  like  a 
convict  for  the  woman  he  loved.  He  was  poor,  very 
poor,  but  he  had  health,  strength,  and  the  will  to  devote 
himself  wholly  to  money-getting.  Fortunes  had  been 
made  from  small  beginnings.  If  his  ability  to  ac 
cumulate  vast  wealth  was  still  undemonstrated,  he  had, 
at  least,  some  business  training.  It  was  not  an  untried 
field ;  and  his  record  in  it,  short  as  that  was,  had  not 
failed  to  show  a  natural  aptitude  for  business,  based 
upon  an  overmastering  inclination  to  which  he  had  sac 
rificed  his  chosen  profession. 

"  Profession  ?  What  profession  ?  "  demanded  Mr. 
Stanwood,  who  had  been  biting  the  clipped,  gray  hairs 
of  his  mustache  in  undisguised  perplexity. 

63 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  Music,"  said  Wise,  in  spite  of  himself  turning  scar 
let  at  the  admission ;  "  I  gave  that  up.  There  was  no 
money  in  it." 

"  Well,  for  the  Lord's  sake !  I  should  say  as  much !  " 
growled  the  Winnipeg  King,  with  a  harsh  emphasis 
which  made  the  other  tremble.  He  was  far  from  guess 
ing  how  much  the  statement,  apparently  offensive, 
really  told  in  his  favor.  For  it  had  recalled  to  Nina's 
father  the  old  fear  that  she  might  have  fallen  in  love 
with  the  fool  of  a  painter  who  had  gone  abroad.  "  Bet 
ter  this  than  that,  anyhow,"  he  thought ;  "  a  damned 
sight  better !  "  And  his  acceptance  of  Gordon  Wise 
as  a  prospective  son-in-law  may  be  said  to  have  dated 
from  the  moment  of  that  reflection. 

Nevertheless,  he  chose  to  counterfeit  fierce  opposi 
tion  for  a  while  longer,  now  fanning  it  into  flame,jiow 
suffering  it  to  smoulder,  as  he  tortured  Wise  with  ques 
tions  concerning  that  unhappy  taste  for  music.  What ! 
He  had  written  songs,  and  actually  had  sold  them  ?  Did 
any  hankering  for  this  kind  of  success  still  lurk  within 
him  ?  Should  it  ever  reassert  itself,  was  he  sure  that  he 
could  stifle  it,  stamp  it  out  ?  Would  he  agree  to  do  that 
unconditionally,  with  no  reserve  whatever  ?  And  as  he 
asked  this,  Mr.  Stanwood  brought  his  heavy  foot  down 
upon  the  hearth-rug  expressively.  It  shook  the  room. 
And  before  the  waves  of  its  vibration  died  away,  Gor 
don  Wise  had  agreed  to  everything.  Figuratively 
speaking,  he  filled  the  pen  with  his  own  blood  and 

64 


The  Thorns  of  Conquest 

signed  the  compact;  he  was  the  king's  galley-slave 
now,  body  and  soul. 

Then,  at  last,  Nina  was  summoned  to  talk  out  in 
meeting  for  herself,  as  her  father  expressed  it.  This 
she  did  with  considerable  spirit,  every  look  and  gesture 
proving  the  state  of  the  case  more  clearly  than  her 
words.  That  she  loved  the  man  was  very  evident.  Mr. 
Stan  wood  eyed  his  daughter  in  jealous  indignation,  ill- 
concealed,  aware  that  to  contend  with  this  new  force 
would  have  been  no  easy  matter,  trying  to  determine 
how  he  could  yield  and  yet  at  the  same  time  assert  his 
supremacy.  Wise,  meanwhile,  looked  on  in  glowing  si 
lence.  It  seemed  hardly  credible  that  this  was  the  same 
girl  who,  three  months  earlier  at  the  theatre,  had  dis 
missed  him  so  curtly.  Then,  she  was  oppressed  with 
doubt,  which,  day  after  day,  he  labored  to  remove. 
Sure  neither  of  herself  nor  of  him,  as  it  appeared,  she 
could  not  give  the  promise  he  exacted,  fearing  that  she 
did  not  love  him  more  than  all  the  world,  yet  protest 
ing  always  that  there  was  no  one  in  the  world  whom 
she  loved  more.  A  refusal  of  this  sort  can  but  encour 
age  a  patient  lover.  Gordon  Wise  had  persevered,  and 
his  perseverance  had  been  well  rewarded.  Nina  loved 
him ;  all  the  better,  assuredly,  for  his  steadfastness  in 
overcoming  the  painful  doubt,  at  which,  now,  they 
laughed  together. 

They  had  learned  to  study  signs  and  to  interpret 
them.  Thus  they  found  no  cause  for  alarm  when  their 

65 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

stern  arbiter  remanded  the  case,  so  to  speak,  for  an 
other  week.  He  wished  to  think  it  over,  he  said ;  to  dis 
cuss  it  with  his  wife.  And  they  smiled  at  this,  knowing 
already  that  they  could  have  no  warmer  ally  than  Mrs. 
Stanwood,  who  was  in  their  confidence.  They  agreed 
cheerfully  that  there  should  be  no  announcement  dur 
ing  the  prescribed  term  of  delay ;  no  engagement,  in 
fact,  until  his  formal  consent  was  pronounced.  They 
perceived  that  he  merely  wished  to  recover  from  the 
shock  of  their  attack,  and  make  his  retreat  with  dig 
nity.  They  had  feared  a  violent  stand  in  the  first  in 
stance.  But  the  moment  for  this  had  passed,  and  it 
was  clear  that  there  would  be  no  violence  at  all. 

None  the  less,  his  complete  change  of  front  was  a 
pleasant  surprise  when  they  stood  before  him  again  at 
the  appointed  time.  He  not  only  consented  to  the  mar 
riage,  but  he  would  have  been  glad  also  to  see  it  sol 
emnized  then  and  there,  without  more  ado.  For  he 
disapproved  of  long  engagements.  They  had  looked 
for  further  doubts,  delays  perhaps ;  conditions  of  some 
sort,  at  least.  But  the  only  condition  imposed  was  that 
the  wedding  should  take  place  with  as  little  delay  as 
possible.  They  were  in  the  early  days  of  June,  on  the 
point  of  moving  for  the  summer  to  their  country-house 
at  Tarrytown.  Why  could  not  the  ceremony  come  off 
up  there,  within  a  week,  or  ten  days  at  the  outside  ?  The 
amusement  of  the  lovers  at  this  suggestion  was  un 
intelligible  to  Mr.  Stanwood.  They  knew  their  own 

66 


The  Thorns  of  Conquest 

minds,  didn't  they?  Then  the  sooner  they  were  man 
and  wife,  the  better.  Why  wait  a  day,  an  hour  ?  But 
he  was  finally  made  to  see  the  importance  of  preparing 
the  world  for  the  great  event,  and  of  gaining  some  lit 
tle  time  for  their  own  preparations.  He  permitted 
them  to  wait  until  some  day  in  July,  to  be  hereafter 
determined ;  only,  it  must  be  before  the  fifteenth,  when 
he  purposed  to  leave  for  a  business  trip  through  the 
North- West,  marriage  or  no  marriage.  Let  them  "  hus 
tle  "  accordingly,  and  begin  writing  the  notes  they 
talked  about  right  away.  So  much  for  that.  Now,  he 
had  a  proposition  to  make,  which  he  hoped  would  be 
acceptable  to  all  parties. 

The  proposition  was  a  flattering  one,  not  easily  to  be 
rejected  in  view  of  the  circumstances,  even  had  Gordon 
Wise  conceived  the  gravest  doubts  regarding  it.  Mr. 
Stanwood  merely  wished  his  son-in-law  to  enter  his  em 
ploy  at  once,  upon  a  salary,  with  the  hope  of  becoming 
his  confidential  clerk,  his  factotum,  partner  in  busi 
ness, — ultimately  his  successor.  The  old  money-get 
ter,  growing  almost  tender  for  the  moment,  explained 
that  he  had  no  son,  no  chick  nor  child  but  Nina.  He 
desired  Nina's  husband  to  be  one  of  the  family  in  fact 
as  well  as  in  name,  knowing  there  was  good  stuff  in 
him.  He  could  see  no  objection  to  this  arrangement, 
which  would  be  advantageous  financially  and  in  every 
way,  all  round.  Well  ? 

Well,  no  objection  was  made,  of  course.  The  happy 
67 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

lover  read  his  fate  in  his  lady's  eyes,  and  assented  to 
the  plan  forthwith.  A  week  later  he  was  installed  in 
Mr.  Stanwood's  private  office,  up  to  his  ears  in  the  new 
employment,  which  it  was  easy  to  see  would  be  far 
from  light.  Even  in  the  first  glow  of  his  great  happi 
ness,  he  perceived  clearly  that  he  had  entered  into  a 
kind  of  bondage.  The  thorns  were  there,  and  later  they 
would  surely  rankle.  But  a  man  who  has  just  secured 
the  woman  of  his  choice  is  lost  to  all  sense  of  propor 
tion.  His  present  ills,  his  threatened  dangers,  how 
ever  grave,  are  for  the  time  being  the  merest  trifles, 
swallowed  up  in  the  joy  of  his  overwhelming  victory. 
Gordon  Wise  had  doubts,  only  to  dismiss  them  as  soon 
as  conceived,  with  the  old  formula.  The  only  girl 
worth  having  was  his.  What  more  should  he  demand  ? 
One  could  not  get  everything  in  this  world. 

Meanwhile,  the  world  intensified  his  state  of  ecstasy 
by  demonstrative  admiration  which  was  apparently 
honest.  His  friends  congratulated  him  unreservedly, 
heartily.  They  showered  their  gifts  upon  Nina  in  the 
usual  way,  and  she  took  the  usual  childish  delight  in 
displaying  them.  She  had  not  dreamed  of  such  kind 
ness,  she  did  not  know  that  it  existed.  Her  eyes  shone 
with  its  reflected  glory.  She  was  happy, — so  happy  ;  the 
happier  of  the  two,  if  that  were  possible.  She  had  no 
time,  indeed,  to  be  otherwise ;  for  the  wedding  was  to 
take  place  on  the  loth  of  July,  in  the  country,  as  her 
father  desired.  She  wore  herself  to  a  shadow,  daily,  to 

68 


The  Thorns  of  Conquest 

make  ready,  and  he  was  gentle  as  a  lamb,  in  conse 
quence.  He  had  given  her  a  diamond  necklace,  the  or 
nament  of  all  others  which  she  coveted  most.  Wasn't 
it  angelic  of  him?  And  wouldn't  she  be  the  happiest 
bride  that  ever  lived?  Perhaps.  But,  for  the  bride 
groom,  even  in  the  rosy  promise  of  the  wedding-day, 
there  lurked  an  irritating  little  thorn.  Fashion  has  de 
creed  that  to  "  the  marriage  of  true  minds  "  a  wedding- 
journey  is  indispensable.  And  Gordon  Wise  had 
counted  upon  one  which  should,  at  least,  outlast  the 
honeymoon.  But  Mr.  Stanwood's  mind  was  fixed  with 
needle-like  rigidity  upon  the  Northwestern  journey, 
and  he  could  not  be  swerved  from  it.  His  son-in-law 
must  be  on  hand  to  represent  him  in  his  absence.  He 
had  taken  three  days  off  at  the  time  of  his  own  mar 
riage,  and  three  days  were  quite  enough  to  waste  in 
this  way,  while  five,  say,  might  be  regarded  as  reck 
less  luxury.  He  would  agree  to  postpone  his  depart 
ure  until  the  seventeenth,  but  not  an  hour  longer.  He 
should  expect  Gordon  to  report  in  New  York  on  the 
night  of  the  sixteenth,  without  fail,  and  to  lay  his  plans 
accordingly.  He  genially  reminded  the  new  member 
of  the  family  that  he,  Anthony  Stanwood,  was  its  head 
and  front,  and  expected  to  "  run  "  it.  Gordon  laughed, 
accepting  the  statement  as  it  was  intended,  jocosely, 
promising  obedience.  His  wry  face  at  the  close  came 
later,  when  he  was  alone.  He  had  yielded  himself  up 
to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  tyrant,  who  would  rule  him 

69 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

with  an  iron  hand.  For  what  ?  Why,  for  a  gentle,  lov 
ing  wife,  the  best  boon  granted  by  the  gods  to  man.  He 
must  take  the  bargain  as  it  came,  and  make  the  best  of 
it.  As  he  had  said  before,  and  would  often  say  again, 
one  could  not  get  everything  in  this  world ! 


VII 

THE   OBLONG   BOX 

IT  was  very  warm  in  the  big,  dusty  cathedral-square 
that  August  morning;  but  the  dim  aisles  of  the 
church  were  still  pleasantly  cool,  and  Paul  Hemming 
worked  for  more  than  three  hours  in  one  of  the  side- 
chapels  without  discomfort.  He  had  been  two  months 
in  Italy,  for  the  greater  part  of  the  time  quite  off  the 
beaten  paths  of  travel,  remote  from  the  railways.  On 
the  preceding  day  he  had  driven  over  here  to  San 
Gimignano  from  Volterra  through  the  most  desolate 
tract  of  country  ever  dreamed  of,  which  he  compared 
to  the  landscape  in  a  nightmare ;  and  the  bleak  pros 
pect  had  been  rendered  doubly  cheerless,  if  that  were 
possible,  by  a  pouring  rain.  Then  the  storm  drifted 
away,  the  mist  melted  into  sunshine,  and  he  came  out 
upon  smiling  hillsides,  green  with  vineyards,  beyond 
which,  from  a  distant  summit,  the  towers  of  this  med 
iaeval  city  stood  out  against  the  sky.  He  had  passed 
on  among  them  to  a  primitive  tavern,  in  a  denuded  pal 
ace  near  one  of  the  gates,  where  the  host's  geniality  and 
the  eager  helpfulness  of  his  pretty  daughter,  Raffaella, 
outweighed  the  meagre  fare  and  barren  lodging.  Later, 
he  had  explored  the  town,  watched  an  indescribable 

71 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

sunset  from  the  ruined  bastions,  and  dined  frugally  but 
picturesquely  upon  eggs  and  macaroni  and  unlimited 
Chianti  wine.  So,  after  a  sound  sleep,  he  had  risen 
early  to  begin  the  appointed  work  which  had  brought 
him  so  far  from  the  Quartier  Latin. 

To  this  commission  (the  copying  of  a  certain  figure 
in  a  fresco)  and  to  one  or  two  others  of  the  same  kind 
Hemming  owed  his  Italian  journey.  Upon  reaching 
Paris  he  had  immediately  entered  an  atelier  regularly 
visited  by  the  distinguished  painter,  Vernou ;  and,  mak 
ing  the  most  of  his  time,  he  had  worked  so  hard  and 
so  well  that  before  the  season  closed  the  master,  at  first 
indifferent,  had  shown  strong  interest  in  him.  When 
the  moment  came  for  summer  plans,  Hemming  hunted 
up  an  obscure  Norman  village  where  life  would  be  in 
expensive  and  he  could  paint  to  some  advantage.  But 
an  American  amateur,  who  knew  and  liked  his  work, 
hearing  of  this,  intervened,  suggesting  Italy,  with  or 
ders  for  copies  upon  favorable  terms  that  would  go  far 
toward  paying  his  way.  While  Hemming  hesitated, 
his  friend  insisted,  and,  bent  upon  carrying  his  point, 
procured  for  him  other  orders,  which  turned  the  scale. 
The  opportunity  was  exceptional ;  to  reject  it  would 
have  been  like  turning  from  the  gates  of  paradise ;  and, 
with  a  clear  three  months  at  his  command  before  the 
atelier  should  claim  him  again,  Hemming  woke  one 
morning  in  Italy. 

Thus  it  happened  that  with  many  high  ideals  realized, 
72 


The  Oblong  Box 


and  rich  in  treasures  of  experience,  Paul  Hemming  now 
sat  before  Ghirlandaio's  fresco  in  the  church  of  San 
Gimignano,  engaged  in  copying  the  youthful  Santa 
Fina,  who,  according  to  the  poetic  legend,  renounced 
the  earthly  for  the  heavenly  love. 

"  Ah !  nothing,  now,  I  hold 
Thy  fond  affection.     Peace  to  thee  and  thine ! 
Leave  me,  and  pass ;  eternal  peace  is  mine." 

The  words  of  the  local  poet  rang  in  the  painter's  ears 
as  the  sweet,  girlish  face  grew  under  his  hand.  The 
saint  lies  dead,  prepared  for  burial,  with  the  dignitaries 
of  the  church  grouped  about  her  in  adoring  attitudes ; 
but  hers  is  a  death  without  horror,  triumphant,  beauti 
ful.  The  features,  thrown  into  relief  by  a  golden 
nimbus,  are  composed,  as  if  in  sleep ;  and  their  expres 
sion  is  of  unspeakable  beatitude,  as  if  the  eternal  peace 
predestined  were  already  gained.  It  is  the  crowning 
work  of  a  master,  faultless  in  its  way,  one  of  the  in 
spired  things  which  a  student  contemplates  with  silent 
veneration.  Hemming  felt  its  power  inexpressibly,  and 
waited  long  before  beginning  his  work.  When  he  did 
so,  making  his  first  draught  of  the  face,  he  was  moved 
not  alone  by  its  technical  beauties,  but  likewise  by  a 
strange  resemblance  in  it  to  a  living  face  well  known  to 
him.  As  he  worked  on  the  resemblance  deepened,  until 
it  seemed  as  if  he  were  copying,  not  the  features  of  the 
departed  Santa  Fina,  but  of  the  absent  Nina  Stanwood. 

73 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

That  was  her  brow,  and  the  closed  eyes  must  be  hers, 
too,  if  he  could  only  see  them.  The  likeness,  at  first  a 
delight,  after  a  time  disturbed  him.  He  sank  into 
gloomy  thoughts,  and  at  last  laid  down  his  palette,  sigh 
ing.  His  peculiar  depression  had  merged  itself  in  a  re 
current  feeling  of  homesickness,  due  partly  to  his 
lonely  journey ;  but  more,  no  doubt,  to  the  fact  that  for 
weeks  he  had  heard  nothing  from  home.  His  course, 
of  late,  had  been  so  uncertain,  that,  forgetting  what 
cheery  companions  letters  make  in  solitude,  he  delib 
erately  cut  off  the  source  of  supply  by  an  order  to  let 
them  accumulate  until  he  should  reach  San  Gimignano. 
They  were  to  meet  him  at  the  tavern,  where  upon  ar 
rival  the  night  before  he  had  asked  for  them  eagerly, 
to  find  nothing.  He  had  telegraphed  at  once  to  Paris 
for  an  explanation,  but  the  morning  brought  neither 
the  letters  nor  any  answer  to  his  inquiry.  Surely,  some 
word  must  have  come  since ;  he  would  go  back,  now,  and 
demand  it.  His  work,  in  spite  of  distracting  influences, 
was  a  fairly  good  beginning,  after  all. 

So,  leaving  his  easel  and  colors  in  the  sacristy,  Hem 
ming  crossed  through  the  blinding  heat  of  the  Piazza. 
and  went  down  the  shady  side  of  the  hill  to  the  Leon 
Bianco.  There,  at  last,  the  much-desired  yellow  en 
velope  was  handed  him, — the  message  from  the  bankers 
with  the  information  that  his  missing  letters  had  been 
sent,  through  a  clerical  error,  to  another  inn,  the  Al- 
bergo  Giusti.  That  was  in  the  square,  as  he  reinem- 

74 


The  Oblong  Box 


bered.  He  had  passed  its  flamboyant  sign-board  on  the 
way  down,  a  moment  ago.  Now  he  hurried  back  to  col 
lect  an  armful  that  rejoiced  his  heart,  though  some  of 
it,  as  denoted  by  the  postmarks,  must  be  very  old  news. 
There  were  letters  and  papers, — nearly  two  dozen  in 
all, — and  one  small  package  which  excited  his  curiosity, 
while  he  retraced  his  steps.  It  had  come  from  New 
York;  it  was  carefully  sealed,  addressed  in  a  strange 
hand ;  and  it  contained  something  of  a  solid  nature, 
moderately  heavy,  so  that  shaking  it  produced  no  sound. 
He  had  written  home  for  nothing,  expected  nothing. 
What  could  it  be  ?  Who  could  have  sent  it  ?  These  ques 
tions  soon  became  of  the  highest  importance ;  and  upon 
seating  himself  at  the  breakfast-table,  set  for  him  alone 
in  the  great,  empty  sala  da  pranzo,  his  first  act  was  to 
cut  the  strings  of  the  mysterious  parcel.  Unfolding  the 
wrappers,  he  found  within  a  little  oblong  box  of  white 
pasteboard,  edged  with  silver.  It  looked  like  a  jew 
eller's  box ;  but  no  one  of  his  acquaintances  was  in  the 
least  likely  to  send  him  jewels.  More  perplexed  than 
ever,  he  opened  it,  and  laughed  at  discovering  only  a 
slice  of  wedding-cake,  with  all  its  absurd  accompani 
ments  of  tissue-paper  and  decorative  sugar-frosting, 
into  which  the  initials  of  bride  and  groom  were  fanci 
fully  worked.  N  S — G  W !  Interpreting  these  at  the 
first  glance,  Hemming  knit  his  brows,  and  his  laugh 
died  away.  Nina  Stanwood  and  Gordon  Wise,  of 
course !  So  they  were  married.  But  to  receive  the  news 

75 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

in  this  way  gave  him  an  unpleasant  shock.  No  word  of 
their  engagement,  no  hint  of  its  possibility  had  reached 
him.  He  had  recognized  Gordon's  hand  in  the  address 
upon  one  of  his  unopened  letters.  He  turned  to  it  now, 
and  plunged  into  four  closely  written  pages  descrip 
tive  of  his  friend's  happiness,  filled  with  the  affectionate 
reminiscence  and  promise  of  future  intimacy  which 
a  newly  accepted  lover  always  bestows  upon  his  com 
rade  left  behind,  as  it  were,  in  the  race.  They  were 
dated  in  June,  six  weeks  ago.  And  here  were  the 
cards,  announcing  that  the  marriage  had  taken  place 
on  the  tenth  of  July  with  due  formality.  The  honey 
moon  was  nearly  over,  and  he  had  given  them  no  sign. 
What  must  they  think  of  him?  Then  came  a  bitter 
thought,  wholly  unjustifiable  in  view  of  the  letter  which 
lay  there  at  his  hand.  Was  it  not  highly  probable  that, 
occupied  with  their  own  happiness,  they  had  ceased  to 
think  of  him  at  all  ?  In  any  case,  a  line  would  suffice  to 
show  that  his  silence  had  been  due  to  accident,  not  in 
difference.  He  must  write  to  Gordon  at  once  and  con 
gratulate  him, — heartily. 

In  comparison  with  Gordon's  letter  the  others  were 
trivial  and  unimportant.  Several  of  them  alluded  more 
or  less  lightly  to  this  love-affair,  which,  naturally 
enough,  had  been  a  nine  days'  wonder.  Nothing  else, 
indeed,  seemed  to  have  happened  at  home.  The  pleas 
ant  glow  of  direct  communication  with  it  soon  passed 
off,  leaving  a  sort  of  chill  behind  to  heighten  Hem- 

76 


The  Oblong  Box 


ming's  sense  of  loneliness.  He  pushed  aside  the  letters 
and  sat  motionless  for  some  time,  staring  out  at  the 
yellow  walls  and  green  shutters  of  the  silent  street. 
Then  he  went  over  to  the  writing-table,  and  began  his 
congratulations  in  a  semi- jocose  vein,  which,  as  he  pro 
ceeded,  grew  serious  to  a  degree  that  must  have  satis 
fied  the  most  exacting  of  lovers ;  he  thanked  Wise  for 
his  friendly  wishes,  echoed  him,  rejoiced  with  him; 
and,  unable  to  disguise  wholly  his  own  present  state 
of  mind,  he  ended  with  a  humorous  expression  of  envy 
at  his  friend's  good  fortune.  As  he  folded  the  letter, 
the  full  force  of  the  threadbare  adage  concerning 
the  true  word  spoken  in  jest  suddenly  came  home  to 
him.  He  envied  Gordon  Wise,  that  was  the  simple 
truth. 

And  he  understood  now,  as  never  before,  what  the 
pursuit  of  his  own  ideals  had  involved.  How  strange  it 
was !  Nina  Stanwood  had  been  much  in  his  thoughts, 
attending  him  everywhere,  and  he  had  not  even  guessed 
the  reason.  All  that  morning  she  had  masqueraded  be 
fore  him  in  the  church  under  the  guise  of  Santa  Fina. 
Nina  Stanwood !  He  could  not  think  of  her  as  mar 
ried, — as  Gordon  Wise's  wife !  He  recollected  perfectly 
and  had  often  recalled  every  detail  of  their  queer,  un 
conventional  parting  at  the  door  of  his  studio, — every 
look,  every  gesture,  every  tone !  He  reviewed  the 
whole  scene  again,  with  new,  unutterable  bitterness. 
Through  it  all,  clearly  indicated,  was  a  strong  feeling, — 

77 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

stronger,  assuredly,  than  the  mere  interest  of  friend 
ship.  He  had  known  this,  but  had  let  it  go,  treating  it 
lightly,  secured  by  the  sacrifice  he  was  making,  shel 
tered  in  the  stronghold  of  his  art,  which,  he  believed, 
must  exclude  the  thought  of  marriage.  She,  almost  in 
so  many  words,  had  confessed  her  love  for  him.  Had 
he  proved  but  half  the  wooer  the  whole  course  of  their 
lives  might  have  changed  from  that  moment.  Where 
would  have  been  his  fine-spun  scruples  then  ?  Ah ! 
Then,  he  did  not  love  her.  Good  God !  To  think  that 
was  to  admit  that  he  loved  her  now ;  now,  when  it  was 
too  late,  and  his  relief  must  be  to  think  of  her  no  more. 
What  infernal  nonsense !  As  if  she  were  the  only 
woman  in  the  world,  when  there  were  a  thousand,  per 
haps,  more  or  less,  who  would  make  him  equally  happy. 
Why  one  rather  than  another?  Here  was  one  under 
this  very  roof,  Raffaella,  the  inn-keeper's  pretty  daugh 
ter,  whose  face  had  struck  his  fancy,  who  had  agreed 
to  pose  for  him  to-morrow.  Many  painters  had  married 
their  models,  and  lived  happy  ever  after.  If  marriage 
had  declared  itself,  all  at  once,  an  importunate  neces 
sity,  why  should  not  he  do  likewise  ? 

Raffaella  was  there  in  the  kitchen,  across  the  cor 
ridor.  He  could  hear  her  moving  about,  singing 
at  her  work.  He  smiled  and  listened.  There  came 
a  heavy  step  on  the  stone  staircase ;  he  looked  up,  just 
as  a  man  passed  along  the  corridor,  whistling  an  air 
from  Don  Giovanni.  It  was  an  officer  of  the  town- 


The  Oblong  Box 

garrison,  whom  Hemming  had  noticed  before  hanging 
about  the  house,  in  full  uniform,  with  his  sword  clink 
ing  as  he  walked.  The  soldier  went  on  now  into  the 
kitchen,  where  the  girl  greeted  him  with  a  merry  laugh. 
Then  they  burst  out  into  song  together,  taking  up  the 
air  he  whistled, — "  La  ci  darem  la  mano!  "  And  Hem 
ming,  gathering  up  his  letters  hastily,  strode  off  down 
the  stairs,  out  into  the  town. 

He  walked  on  to  one  of  the  gates  and  beyond  it,  fol 
lowing  a  foot-path  down  across  the  plain  between  vine 
yards  and  grain-fields  until  he  had  reached  the  open 
country  a  mile  away.  There,  climbing  a  hillside,  he 
seated  himself  in  the  shade  of  a  solitary  pine-tree  and 
looked  back  at  the  gray  towers  of  the  crumbling  city, 
the  wide,  undulating  landscape  of  infinite  distances, 
bright  with  the  vine  or  pale  with  the  olive.  But  of  its 
rare  beauty  Hemming  for  once  was  hardly  conscious. 
Out  of  the  brilliant  Tuscan  sunshine  his  thought  had 
wandered  to  a  winter  night  at  home  long  past, — the 
night  at  Barrington's,  when  Stahlberg  sang  and  Gor 
don  Wise  met  Nina  for  the  first  time.  What  a  gulf 
of  change  lay  between  them  all  and  that  festivity !  And 
how  sharply  the  change  seemed  now  to  have  been  fore 
shadowed  !  The  scene  rose  before  him  in  its  minutest 
details,  reproduced  with  harsh,  photographic  fidelity. 
He  remembered  Gordon's  eager  questions  about  her 
and  his  own  answers  ;  their  talk  of  the  future,  into  which 
the  question  of  marriage  intruded ;  his  renunciation  of 

79 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

that  in  pledging  himself  to  the  struggles  of  an  artistic 
life;  his  urgent  entreaty  that  Gordon  should  make  a 
similar  sacrifice.  But  Gordon  had  hesitated,  though 
the  moment  was  one  of  artistic  triumph  for  him.  How 
Stahlberg  had  touched  them  all  with  that  song  of 
his  to  Heine's  words,  whose  sad  refrain  would  not  go 
from  Hemming's  mind !  "  Mein  Lieb,  wir  sollen  Beide 
elend  sein!"  Did  that  express  their  fortune?  or  his 
only? 

"  My  love,  we  two  live  evermore  forlorn  !  "  The  line 
still  sounded  its  note  of  prophetic  warning,  as  he  took 
up  life  again  after  his  long  reverie  and  strolled  back 
toward  the  town.  It  was  too  late  to  work  any  more  that 
day,  even  had  he  found  the  heart  for  it.  He  left  the 
path  and  followed  the  fortifications  to  a  postern  gate, 
through  which  he  passed  into  a  grass-grown  court,  de 
serted,  silent,  solemn,  climbing  thence  to  an  angle  of 
the  wall  that  commanded  the  western  sky.  There  he 
watched  the  setting  sun  with  the  eyes  of  an  exile  hun 
gry  for  companionship.  And  turning  away,  at  last,  in 
the  afterglow,  he  saw  some  letters  in  the  weather-beaten 
stonework,  just  at  the  point  where  he  had  leaned.  They 
were  freshly  cut,  with  such  care  as  to  be  distinctly  legi 
ble  ;  and  he  read 

RAFFAELLA 

MARTINO 
SIAMO  AMOROSI 

80 


The  Oblong  Box 


smiling  at  the  discovery.  The  abandoned  fortress  had 
become  a  rendezvous  for  lovers,  who  recorded  the 
romance  of  their  lives  in  the  old  childish  way; 

"  In  such  a  night  as  this, 
When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees," 

here  the  pretty  Raffaella  and  her  soldier  had  met  to  ex 
change  vows.  The  whole  world  was  but  a  place  of  love- 
making,  of  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage ;  and  he, 
who  had  fancied  himself  superhuman,  was  trying  to 
walk  through  it  alone  with  insufficient  armor.  He  had 
not  dreamed  that  the  arch-foeman's  mischievous  arrows 
could  fly  so  fiercely  and  so  far ! 

As  he  passed  through  the  hall  of  the  Leon  Bianco 
the  girl  ran  out  to  meet  him. 

''  The  signore  left  this  little  box  upon  the  table,"  she 
said,  smiling. 

She  had  investigated  its  contents  with  the  utmost 
care,  but  now  feigned  surprise  when  Hemming  showed 
and  explained  them. 

"  I  make  you  a  gift  of  it,"  he  added.  "  May  it  bring 
you  good  luck  with  the  soldier, — Martino  is  his  name, 
is  it  not?" 

Raffaella  stared,  round-eyed,  wondering,  while  her 
face  showed  signs  of  a  blush  burning  through  its  Italian 
pallor. 

"  Yes,  signore,  he  is  called  Martino.  How  did  the 
signore  know  his  name  ?  " 

81 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  Oh,  I  know  more  than  that,"  returned  Hemming, 
laughing.  "  I  know,  for  instance,  that  he  loves  you !  " 

She  flushed  scarlet,  but  drew  herself  up  proudly. 

"  Si;  e  vero!"  she  said,  in  a  gentle  voice.  "  Siamo 
amorosi! "  And  then,  with  a  rippling  laugh,  she 
darted  away. 


82 


VIII 

ALTERED   CASES 

MATURE  married  men,  happy  in  their  wives  and 
children,  have  been  known  to  say  that  the  first 
year  of  the  matrimonial  venture  was  much  the  hardest. 
It  is,  so  to  speak,  the  educational  year,  in  which  the 
inequalities  of  disposition,  the  carefully  guarded 
idiosyncrasies  of  man  and  wife,  are  gradually  revealed, 
and,  for  the  sake  of  expediency  at  least,  must  be  stud 
ied,  learned,  adjusted.  Concessions  on  both  sides,  not 
always  perfectly  balanced,  follow,  as  a  matter  of  course ; 
one  individuality  predominates,  perhaps,  while  the 
other  is  lost ;  one  finds  its  greatest  joy  in  yielding,  while 
on  certain  points  there  develops  a  tacit  agreement  to  dis 
agree.  But  through  this  or  that  method  the  two,  in 
time,  should  blend  into  one ;  and  according  to  the  com 
pleteness  of  the  fusion  the  partnership  progresses  fa 
vorably  or  otherwise. 

For  the  summer  Nina  and  her  husband  were  estab 
lished  as  guests  in  her  father's  house  at  Tarrytown. 
This  arrangement,  conducive  to  the  comfort  and  satis 
faction  of  the  four  who  were  concerned  in  it,  gave  one 
of  them,  at  least,  unbounded  pleasure.  Mrs.  Stanwood, 
who  had  nursed  the  tremulous  fear  of  an  invalid  over 

83 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

the  loss  to  her  that  would  inevitably  follow  her  daugh 
ter's  marriage,  regarded  this  as  a  grateful  reprieve. 
Nina  had  never  seemed  so  well,  so  happy ;  she  was  more 
thoughtful,  more  devoted,  more  affectionate  than  ever, 
if  that  were  possible.  Her  own  health  and  spirits  took 
a  favorable  turn,  in  consequence;  Gordon,  who  came 
and  went  daily,  at  first,  was  more  than  attentive;  she 
began  to  feel  that  she  had  gained  a  child  instead  of 
losing  one,  and  to  look  upon  the  new  member  of  the 
household  almost  with  Nina's  eyes.  The  children,  as 
she  called  them,  were  to  set  up  an  establishment  of  their 
own  in  the  winter, — a  handsome,  not  to  say  luxurious, 
city  house  on  the  west  side,  near  the  park.  There  were 
alterations  to  be  made,  plans  to  be  considered.  In  all 
their  talks  about  it  Mrs.  Stanwood  was  consulted,  and 
when  doubts  arose  it  was  she  who  gave  the  casting 
vote.  For  almost  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  acquired 
a  pleasant  sense  of  importance  in  her  own  eyes. 

The  season  proved  unusually  hot,  and  in  the  course 
of  time  it  became  to  Gordon  almost  intolerable.  The 
office  affairs  demanded  his  presence  early  and  late  ;  new 
schemes  for  the  town  house,  developing  unexpectedly, 
made  repeated  visits  to  it  indispensable.  The  journey, 
back  and  forth,  consumed  more  of  each  day  than  he 
could  spare ;  so  that  Tarrytown  was  given  up  for  days 
together,  and,  taking  a  room  at  one  of  his  clubs,  he 
lived  there  through  the  week,  until,  late  on  Saturday, 
the  moment  came  when  he  could  escape  into  the  coun- 

84 


Altered  Cases 

try  to  get  his  short  interval  of  rest.  This  plan  was 
definitely  adopted  at  the  suggestion  of  his  wife,  who 
was  disturbed  by  his  desperate  look  of  fatigue.  Yet, 
after  its  adoption,  so  much  of  the  look  still  remained 
that,  repeatedly,  she  cautioned  him  against  overwork. 
But  he  only  laughed,  and  told  her  not  to  worry.  Then 
she  complained,  privately,  to  her  father,  who  was  even 
less  sympathetic.  He  told  her,  in  so  many  words,  to  let 
her  husband  alone.  Gordon  was  taking  hold  well,  and 
making  his  way.  Men  had  to  work,  of  course ;  it  was 
expected  of  them.  What  did  women  know  about  it,  or 
about  business,  anyway?  Their  duty  was  to  keep  still 
and  keep  from  nagging ! 

Harsh  as  its  expression  was,  the  advice  seemed  sound, 
and  Nina  did  her  best  to  follow  it.  Though  her  opin 
ion  was  unchanged,  she  introduced  the  subject  no  more, 
and  forced  herself  to  conceal  her  anxieties,  if  not  to  dis 
miss  them.  She  labored  constantly  to  make  her  first 
thought  always  the  thought  of  others :  with  her  mother, 
growing  in  patient  helpfulness ;  with  Gordon,  when  he 
came  up  from  town  worn  and  tired,  striving  to  divert 
the  current  of  business  cares  that  threatened  to  over 
whelm  him.  It  delighted  her  to  see  his  face  clear,  while 
its  lines  of  exhaustion  gradually  gave  place  to  the  lines 
of  mirth.  She  had  a  vein  of  quiet  humor  which  was 
artfully  developed  to  this  end.  But  her  task  proved 
more  difficult  from  week  to  week  as  the  summer  waned. 
She  noted  with  vague  alarm  the  progress  of  a  perplex- 

85 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

ing  change  in  his  whole  demeanor.  He  grew  silent,  ab 
stracted,  morose,  at  times  even  irritable.  The  strain  of 
overwork  was  telling  upon  him,  undoubtedly.  And 
often,  at  the  thought,  when  she  was  left  to  herself, 
his  careworn  look  came  to  be  reflected  in  her  own 
face. 

One  very  marked  alteration  in  his  character  distressed 
her  above  all  the  rest.  His  talk,  she  observed,  turned 
more  and  more  upon  money  and  the  material  advan 
tages  to  accrue  from  its  possession.  When  they  had 
money  it  would  bring  them  such  and  such  greatly  de 
sired  things.  And  by  his  use  the  word  signified  not 
the  moderate  supply  requisite  for  daily  needs,  not  the 
"  pale  and  common  drudge  'tween  man  and  man," 
but  the  "  hard  food  for  Midas,"  entailing  excessive 
luxury  and  splendor.  Simple  pleasures  interested  him 
less  and  less.  He  was  only  bored  by  them.  As  for 
books,  he  stated  frankly  that  he  had  no  time  to  read — 
this  with  a  sigh,  it  is  true ;  yet  he  found  ample  time  for 
the  newspapers  and  everything  else  in  print  that  touched 
directly  or  indirectly  upon  profitable  questions,  as  he 
called  them.  A  man  to  succeed,  as  he  argued,  must  be  a 
man  of  one  idea.  His  idea  was  to  make  money.  Why 
not?  Money  did  no  end  of  good.  He  must  push  on 
and  make  it,  dropping  all  superfluous  pursuits  by  the 
way.  Here  was  a  law  of  life  which  satisfied  old 
Anthony  Stanwood  thoroughly.  At  every  clause  of  it, 
he  rubbed  his  hands  with  delight,  and  took  pains  to 

86 


Altered  Cases 

spread  the  intelligence  that  he  had  a  son-in-law  with 
no  "  outs,"  who  was  one  of  the  coming  men. 

Along  this  channel,  gradually  narrowing,  the  stream 
of  these  lives  flowed  on  until  the  autumn,  when  there 
came  a  cordial  note  from  Mrs.  Brinkley  Barring- 
ton  inviting  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gordon  Wise  to  join  a  house- 
party  at  Brinkwood,  the  historic  estate  of  fine  traditions 
near  Fishkill-on-Hudson,  where  she  and  her  husband 
would  be  overjoyed  to  have  them  for  a  week.  Gordon 
shook  his  head  and  proposed  declining;  or,  if  that 
would  not  do,  Nina  might  accept,  and  let  him  off  on  the 
ground  of  his  business  engagements.  But  Nina  said 
no ;  they  must  go  together,  or  not  at  all.  And  this  de 
cision,  emphatically  expressed  at  the  breakfast-table, 
somewhat  to  her  surprise  was  sustained  in  the  strongest 
way  by  her  father,  who  added  that  they  must  go,  of 
course.  He  felt,  although  he  did  not  say  it  in  so  many 
words,  that  the  Barringtons  were  far  too  influential  to 
be  dealt  with  lightly.  Gordon  yielded  at  once,  and  Mr. 
Stanwood  told  him  privately  afterward  that  from  a 
business  point  of  view  he  considered  the  visit  ad 
visable. 

So,  turning  his  holiday  into  a  business  transaction, 
Gordon  Wise  determined  to  make  it  complete  by  re 
maining  at  Brinkwood  throughout  the  week  for  which 
they  were  invited.  And  Mr.  Stanwood's  acuteness  was 
demonstrated  to  him  at  the  very  moment  of  arrival, 
when  he  found  among  the  guests  Egerton  Harvey,  the 

87 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

banker  (senior  partner  of  Harvey,  Long  &  Co.),  and 
Hammond  Long,  the  junior  partner's  son.  With  this 
powerful  firm  he  already  had  pleasant  relations;  and 
visions  of  a  stronger  and  more  profitable  alliance  at 
once  rose  in  his  mind  as  a  possible  result  of  the  visit. 
The  other  guests  were  Mrs.  Harvey,  the  banker's  wife, 
Dr.  Brinkley  and  Mrs.  Brinkley  with  their  daughter, 
Suzette ;  making  the  party  ten  in  all,  that  night,  at  the 
dinner-table,  which  glittered  with  old  plate.  The  room 
was  large  and  handsome,  the  dinner  itself  faultless ; 
and  Gordon,  seated  between  Miss  Brinkley  and  her 
mother,  who  were  never  at  a  loss  for  speech,  soon  found 
himself  in  a  contented  frame  of  mind.  As  he  tasted 
the  claret,  which  proved  to  be  a  grand  vin,  perfect  in 
condition  and  temperature,  he  remembered  an  old  say 
ing  of  his  to  the  effect  that  the  Barringtons  understood 
splendor  without  display,  and  that  everything  which 
they  cared  to  attempt  was  sure  to  be  well  done.  He 
hoped  that  his  wife  was  making  mental  notes  of  it  all 
for  their  own  future  guidance. 

As  the  dinner  went  on  there  was  more  or  less  gen 
eral  conversation,  in  which  Mr.  Harvey,  a  recognized 
art  patron,  took  the  lead  for  a  time,  upon  the  chance  in 
troduction  of  his  favorite  subject.  Then,  after  the  talk 
had  turned  to  modern  painters  and  their  methods,  he 
asked  for  news  of  Paul  Hemming,  one  of  whose  pict 
ures  he  owned.  Gordon  at  once  came  to  the  front  with 
the  statement  that  he  had  heard  from  Hemming  in  Italy 


Altered  Cases 

not  so  very  long  ago ;  that  the  letter  was  written  in  high 
spirits  and  full  of  enthusiasm ;  that  all  was  going  well ; 
and,  finally,  that  his  friend  intended  to  remain  abroad 
for  another  year,  passing  his  winter  in  Paris,  exhibit 
ing,  surely,  at  the  next  Salon. 

"  Good !  "  said  Mr.  Harvey,  leaning  forward  on  Miss 
Brinkley's  left,  to  mark  his  approval.  Then,  settling 
back  and  addressing  whom  it  might  concern,  he  added : 
"  I  only  hope  he  won't  sacrifice  everything  to  technique, 
or  go  mad  over  new  effects  like  some  of  the  modern 
Frenchmen ;  that's  all !  " 

"  Oh,  he  is  much  too  clever  for  that.  Isn't  he  ?  "  said 
Barrington,  with  an  appeal  to  Nina,  who  sat  next  him. 

"  Decidedly,"  she  answered.  "  He  will  gain,  rather 
than  lose,  I  am  sure." 

"  We  shall  see !  "  Mr.  Harvey  replied.  "  By  the  way, 
what  ever  became  of  that  fine  thing  he  finished  just  be 
fore  sailing, — the  '  Tithonus.'  Some  of  us  saw  it  in  his 
studio,  one  afternoon.  You  were  there,  Mrs.  Wise ; 
you  remember." 

"  Yes,"  said  Nina,  closing  her  fan  and  laying  it  down. 
"  I  remember." 

"  I  can  tell  you  all  about  that,"  said  Dr.  Brinkley, 
who  sat  on  her  side  of  the  table,  two  chairs  away,  next 
their  hostess.  "  In  fact,  I  may  say  pars  parva  fui;  since 
the  picture  was  left  in  my  charge  for  a  while  after  Hem 
ming  went  away.  He  sold  it  at  his  own  price, — a  very 
good  one." 

89 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"Ah!  indeed?  Who  bought  it?"  Mr.  Harvey  in 
quired. 

"  That,"  returned  the  doctor,  smiling,  "  is  a  bit  of  a 
secret,  not  of  my  making.  I  am  only  permitted  to  say 
that  the  picture  went  to  Chicago." 

"  Well,  I  congratulate  the  buyer,  whoever  he  may 
be,"  said  the  art  patron,  very  heartily.  "  The  picture  is 
worth  more  than  he  gave  for  it,  I'll  venture  to  state. 
Those  Chicago  fellows  will  take  the  lead  of  us  all,  if 
we  are  not  careful ;  they  show  real  discrimination." 

Mrs.  Barrington  caught  up  the  gantlet,  at  once,  in 
defence  of  New  York,  which  she  declared  was  the  fore 
most  of  earthly  cities ;  and,  while  Mr.  Harvey  amiably 
discussed  this  point  with  her,  the  general  talk  subsided. 
The  host  sought  Mrs.  Brinkley's  opinion  upon  the  same 
important  subject;  Mrs.  Harvey  loyally  supported  her 
husband  in  a  spirited  argument  with  Hammond  Long ; 
and  Suzette  Brinkley  took  the  opportunity  to  learn  a 
little  more  of  Hemming's  Italian  journey  from  her 
next  neighbor,  who  said  that  his  letter  had  been  dated 
at  San  Gimignano,  in  Tuscany.  Two  of  the  company 
were  thus  left  practically  to  themselves,  sitting  apart, 
as  they  happened  to  be,  upon  the  same  side  of  the 
table.  An  observing  person  might  easily  have  detected 
embarrassment  in  Mrs.  Wise's  abstracted  silence.  Her 
eyes  were  cast  downward,  as  if  to  study  the  decoration 
of  her  plate  by  tracing  out  minutely  the  intricacies  of 
its  design.  Her  thoughts  were  not  upon  that,  assuredly ; 

90 


Altered  Cases 

and  her  expression  had  the  shade  of  weariness  which 
often  overcame  it,  now,  in  repose.  But  there  was  no 
one  to  observe  her.  Dr.  Brinkley  stared  straight  across 
the  table,  where  Gordon  Wise  and  Suzette  sounded 
their  antiphonal  notes  of  praise  for  Italy.  Yet  though 
the  doctor's  attitude  seemed  to  be  that  of  a  listener,  he 
had  not  the  least  notion  of  what  they  were  saying.  This 
condition  was  but  momentary,  of  course ;  the  eddying 
ones  were  soon  swept  back  into  the  current,  and  the 
dinner  went  lightly  on  to  the  end. 

That  first  evening  was  made  very  short,  as  befitted 
one  of  arrival,  some  of  the  guests  having  travelled  far. 
The  men  lingered,  to  be  sure,  over  their  cigars,  pur 
suing  a  comparison  of  sectional  progress  in  America 
which  the  mention  of  Chicago  had  suggested.  And, 
afterward,  there  was  a  musical  half  hour  in  the  draw 
ing-room,  Suzette  singing  three  songs  very  sweetly  to 
her  own  accompaniment ;  Gordon  Wise  helping  her 
with  another,  even  though  he  was  all  out  of  prac 
tice,  as  he  said,  never  playing  now.  But  the  dispersal 
came  early  by  common  consent,  after  a  look  at  the  stars, 
which  gave  their  clearest  assurance  of  fine  weather  on 
the  following  day. 

It  was  in  fact  a  splendid  autumn  morning  when 
Dr.  Brinkley,  who  always  rose  betimes,  came  into  the 
breakfast-room,  and,  finding  only  servants  there, 
strolled  out  across  the  lawn  for  a  look  at  the  mountains 
and  the  river;  then,  lured  on  by  the  trimness  of  the 

91 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

foreground,  he  followed  a  path  that  led  away  from  the 
house,  past  an  old  well  overgrown  with  vines,  to  the 
garden-gate.  Beyond,  closed  in  by  hedges,  lay  the  wide, 
formal  garden  itself,  bright  with  late  flowers, — dahlias, 
chrysanthemums  and  the  crimson  salvia, — all  steeped 
in  sunshine.  He  opened  the  gate  and  passed  on  between 
the  borders  of  box,  along  the  main  walk  to  its  farther 
end,  where,  turning  into  shrubbery  of  larger  growth, 
he  suddenly  found  himself  face  to  face  with  Mrs.  Gor 
don  Wise.  She  had  come  out  alone,  scenting  the  morn 
ing  air,  like  the  Ghost  in  Hamlet,  as  she  said ;  but  in  her 
becoming  costume,  suited  to  the  hour  and  to  the  place, 
she  looked  more  like  a  spirit  of  the  day  than  of  the 
dark,  and  Dr.  Brinkley  told  her  so. 

"  I  might  say  the  same  of  you,"  she  answered,  laugh 
ing.  "  We  two  are  the  choice  spirits  of  the  household. 
To  stay  in-doors  when  the  flowers  are  waking  up  is  a 
dreadful  mistake." 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  flowers,"  said  Dr.  Brinkley. 

"  Of  course ;  I  have  always  loved  them.  At  Tarry- 
town  I  live  in  the  garden.  But  ours  is  not  so  fine  as 
this;  there  are  things  here  that  will  not  grow  with  us. 
I  must  talk  with  the  gardener  and  discover  why." 

They  turned  back,  walking  slowly,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  admire  some  flower-bed  in  detail,  and 
to  comment  upon  it.  But  as  they  drew  near  the  gate 
Nina  spoke  less  freely,  and  her  share  of  the  conversa 
tion  became  monosyllabic.  Dr.  Brinkley  felt  that  her 

92 


Altered  Cases 

thought  had  taken  flight,  and,  after  vain  attempts  to 
recall  it  indirectly,  he  inquired  point-blank  of  what  she 
was  thinking. 

She  tried  to  parry  him,  at  first,  with  a  laugh;  then, 
changing  her  tactics,  frankly  admitted  her  abstraction, 
and  confessed  its  cause. 

"  I  was  only  thinking  of  the  dreadful  little  fib  I 
forced  you  to  tell  last  night, — about  Mr.  Hemming's 
picture,  I  mean ;  my  picture,  the  '  Tithonus.' ': 

The  doctor  laughed.  "  Oh,  is  that  all?  It  does 
not  weigh  upon  my  conscience.  In  society  we  have 
always  the  right  to  protect  ourselves,  by  evasion,  from 
idle  curiosity;  and,  in  this  case,  the  lie  was  snow- 
white.  I  only  said  that  the  picture  went  to  Chicago, 
where  I  really  sent  it,  you  remember,  for  purposes 
of  exhibition." 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Nina.  "  But  when  they  all  drew 
the  only  possible  inference,  and  said  so  much  about 
Chicago's  quick  appreciation  of  the  arts,  I  felt  horribly 
guilty.  How  could  I  help  it,  with  the  picture  locked 
up  in  the  New  York  storage  warehouse,  my  property? 
And  now  I  am  committed  to  silence.  Absurd,  isn't 
it?  The  poor  '  Tithonus  '  seems  to  have  become  an 
impossible  possession.  The  light  of  day  must  never 
shine  upon  him  any  more.  I  can't  show  him  to  the 
world  without  explanations,  which  would  be  awkward 
if  not  ridiculous.  I  hardly  dare  even  to  let  Gordon 
know  that  he  is  mine  now." 

93 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

"You  have  never  told  him,  then?" 

"  No.     I  have  always  meant  to  do  so,  but — 


She  stopped  abruptly,  reluctant,  all  at  once,  to  ad 
mit  that  her  present  motive  for  keeping  this  small 
secret  from  her  husband  was  a  fear  that  he  would 
laugh  at  her.  Dr.  Brinkley  waited  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  quietly:  "  I  should  tell  him,  I  think.  Why 
not?  Where  is  the  harm?" 

"  There  can  be  none,"  said  Nina,  quickly,  feeling 
her  cheeks  burn  as  she  spoke.  "  I  shall  confess  the 
pious  fraud  to  Gordon  some  day,  of  course.  He  will 
approve  of  my  good  investment,  I  dare  say,  in  view 
of  Mr.  Hemming's  advancing  reputation." 

She  had  said  too  much  now,  and  was  painfully  aware 
of  it,  even  though  she  remained  unconscious  of  the 
bitterness  in  her  tone,  more  expressive  than  the  words 
themselves.  The  doctor,  however,  whose  professional 
acuteness,  intensified  by  friendly  regard,  had  never 
been  in  better  working  order,  noted  these  signs,  in 
dividually  and  collectively,  doing  his  simple  sum  in 
addition  as  they  walked  on  together,  but  giving  no 
hint  of  that  mental  process.  "  He  could  not  have 
known,"  she  said  to  herself  when  he  had  turned  their 
talk  easily  into  another  channel.  And,  all  the  while, 
he  knew. 

Half  a  doctor's  strength  lies  in  deception.  Actively 
or  passively  he  resorts  to  it  so  often  in  his  daily  round, 
professionally,  from  the  best  of  motives,  that  it  be- 

94 


Altered  Cases 

comes  a  kind  of  second  nature,  governing  all  his 
relations  with  life,  which,  thus,  are  characterized  by 
a  closer  restraint  than  that  habitually  observed  by 
other  men.  Caution  leads  naturally  to  over-caution, 
even  in  trivial  matters;  and  though  he  may  have  the 
wit  to  discern  his  failing,  he  only  makes  a  virtue  of 
it,  arguing  with  himself  that  the  error  is  on  the  right 
side.  "  Too  much  discretion  never  killed  anybody," 
was  one  of  Dr.  Brinkley's  favorite  maxims.  So,  upon 
his  wife's  statement,  toward  the  close  of  their  visit  at 
Brinkwood,  that  she  was  beginning  to  be  troubled 
about  Nina,  he  put  on  a  look  of  childlike  innocence, 
and  inquired  what  she  meant.  It  was  late  at  night, 
they  were  alone  in  their  own  quarters,  yet  Mrs.  Brink- 
ley  instinctively  lowered  her  voice  as  she  replied: 

"You  have  noticed  nothing  wrong,  then?" 

"  Wrong?  No.  She  seems  to  me  the  picture  of 
health." 

"  Health !  "  she  repeated,  impatiently.  "  Of  course, 
that  is  the  doctor's  first  thought  always." 

"  Naturally,  my  dear.  I  thought  you  had  detected 
symptoms,  and  wanted  my  professional  opinion." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  have  no  idea  that  there  is  anything 
the  matter  with  Nina  physically." 

"Oh!"  said  the  doctor,  intrenching  himself  pru 
dently  behind  this  single  exclamation  to  await  the 
disclosure  in  which  he  perceived  that  his  wife's  op 
pressed  mind  now  sought  relief. 

95 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  No,  indeed!  "  she  continued,  as  if  her  husband  had 
advanced  a  theory  which  needed  refutation.  "  Nina 
is  perfectly  well.  But  she  seems  to  me  preoccupied, 
anxious,  out  of  spirits,  unlike  herself, — I  don't  like  to 
say  unhappy — 

"  Don't  say  it,  then,  on  any  account !  "  the  doctor 
interjected.  "  Unhappy?  Why,  she  hasn't  been  mar 
ried  three  months  yet !  " 

"  They  were  married  on  the  tenth  day  of  July, 
George,"  said  Mrs.  Brinkley,  with  dry  adherence  to 
fact,  "  and  that  was  nearly  four  months  ago.  I  doubt 
if  Gordon  Wise  remembers  the  date  any  better  than 
you  do.  He  isn't  half  so  attentive  to  her  as  he  ought 
to  be.  I  think,  between  ourselves,  that  she  feels  this, 
and  that  it  troubles  her." 

"My  dear  Sue,  what  an  awful  thought!  Has  she 
complained?  " 

"  No,  certainly  not.     But  he— 

"  Ah,  yes,  he !  Isn't  your  standard  a  trifle  too  high? 
How  attentive  ought  he  to  be?" 

"  He  ought  to  be  different.  He  should  consider 
her  first  in  everything.  Instead  of  that,  it  seems, 
sometimes,  as  if  he  scarcely  considered  her  at  all.  He 
is  entirely  wrapped  up  in  business  matters.  You  have 
only  to  talk  with  him  alone  for  five  minutes  to  see 
what  I  mean.  He  listens,  and  wanders  back  to  Wall 
Street.  His  heart  is  there." 

"  Naturally  there,  where  he  earns  his  daily  bread 
96 


Altered  Cases 

en  la  sueur  de  son  visage, — for  her,  let  me  remind 
you." 

"  But  first  for  himself.  That  is  the  whole  difficulty, 
George.  His  wife  holds  the  second  place  in  the  part 
nership.  Why,  if  you  treated  me  as  he  treats  her,  I 
should  arise  in  wrath, — and  we  have  been  married 
more  than  twenty  years." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  doctor,  laughing. 
"  I  hoped  for  that  personal  illustration,  even  more 
characteristic  of  your  superior  sex  than  is  its  readi 
ness  to  jump  at  conclusions.  I  am  willing  to  grant 
that  I  am  as  nearly  perfect  as  a  man  can  be,  but  men 
are  cast  in  different  moulds.  Because  Wise  is  undem 
onstrative  it  does  not  follow  that  he  is  indifferent. 
This  intricate  married-life  business  was  never  yet 
mastered  in  a  moment.  Give  the  young  man  time. 
Seriously,  don't  be  unfair  to  him.  A  hasty  judgment, 
expressed  or  betrayed,  might  bring  them  both  to 
grief." 

"  Pray  don't  suggest  such  a  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Brink- 
ley,  beginning  to  doubt  the  value  of  her  evidence.  "I 
would  not  reveal  my  thought  for  the  world  in  any 
way.  It  was  quite  between  ourselves;  and,  perhaps, 
as  you  say,  my  standard  is  too  high.  I  have  been 
spoiled,  you  see.  But  Nina — 

"  There  is  more  or  less  malaria  about  this  autumn," 
said  the  doctor,  as  though  he  were  thinking  aloud. 

97 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  Possibly  Nina  has  a  touch  of  it.  If  so,  a  few  grains 
of  quinine,  more  or  less, 

"Malaria!  I  never  thought  of  it!  I  dare  say  it's 
no  more  than  that,  after  all.  Do  look  into  it,  George!  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  agreed  the  doctor,  smiling.  "  Nothing 
like  a  woman's  keen  observation  in  certain  cases.  As 
you  say,  this  is  probably  a  slight  attack  of  malaria. 
In  my  capacity  of  professional  adviser,  I  think  it  is 
my  duty  to  recommend  a  little  quinine." 

So,  with  a  gravity  that  might  have  drawn  a  wink 
from  the  bust  of  Hippocrates,  perched  above  his  office- 
door  at  home,  Dr.  Brinkley  closed  the  consultation. 

O,  mask  of  virtuous  hypocrisy!  Even  as  he  ad 
justed  it  and  tied  the  strings  securely,  to  the  complete 
satisfaction  of  his  unsuspecting  colleague,  no  one 
knew  better  than  Dr.  Brinkley  that  Mrs.  Gordon 
Wise's  trouble  was  not  malarial. 


98 


IX 

PROSPERITY 

IN  the  course  of  the  next  year  the  men  who  saw 
most  of  Gordon  Wise  down  town  and  at  the 
clubs  became  convinced  that  he  had  taken  at  the 
flood  the  tide  leading  on  to  fortune.  Events  seemed 
clearly  to  prove  his  good  judgment  in  the  close  alli 
ance  which  he  had  formed  with  old  Anthony  Stanwood. 
There  was,  certainly,  nothing  else  that  could  be 
brought  up  against  him,  and  he  was  so  much  of  a 
favorite  that,  among  the  younger  portion,  at  least,  of 
his  wide  acquaintance,  old-fashioned  prejudice  against 
the  Winnipeg  King  almost  ceased  to  exist.  The  tide 
which  floated  the  amiable,  good-looking  son-in-law,  if 
properly  followed,  was  capable,  likewise,  of  serving  the 
father-in-law,  once  so  obnoxious,  who  might  now  have 
escaped  blackballing,  even  in  certain  rigid,  exclusive 
circles,  had  he  cared  to  try.  The  man  who  owned  more 
than  half  the  business  quarter  in  the  great  new  port 
of  the  North-West,  and  yet  remained  socially  unrec 
ognized,  was  probably  the  victim  of  malignant  jealousy. 
But  if  Mr.  Stanwood  felt  any  glow  from  this  rise  in 
sentimental  temperature,  he  gave  no  sign  thereof.  He 
had  outgrown  all  trivial  aspirations  for  personal  ad- 

99 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

vancement.  Nina  and  her  husband  were  recognized; 
that  was  enough.  They  could  make  the  most  of  it, 
or  not,  as  they  pleased.  What  did  it  amount  to,  any 
way? 

All  it  seemed  to  amount  to  was  that  Nina  gave, 
during  this  first  winter,  a  number  of  little  dinners  in 
the  new  house,  which,  if  small,  was  a  model  of  good 
taste,  most  comfortable,  and  well  appointed.  Through 
out  the  subsequent  round  of  dinner-giving  in  her  honor 
it  was  observed  that  she  looked  radiantly  handsome, 
and  did  all  that  could  reasonably  be  expected  of  her, 
though  the  effort  to  overcome  listlessness,  fatigue,  or 
some  disturbing  force  undetermined  grew,  at  times, 
too  evident.  At  the  height  of  the  season  she  appeared 
without  her  husband  at  one  or  two  large  balls, — state 
affairs,  requiring  only  momentary,  perfunctory  ap 
pearance,  after  which  it  was  perfectly  easy  for  her  to 
slip  away  at  an  early  hour,  unnoticed.  Then,  having 
accepted  a  formal  dinner  invitation,  she  failed  her 
hostess  at  the  eleventh  hour,  Gordon  coming  without 
her.  And  thereafter  the  world  saw  less  and  less  of 
her  as  time  went  on,  until  her  absence  came  to  be 
taken  for  granted,  and  it  was  currently  reported  that 
she,  upon  grounds  chiefly  hysterical,  had  settled  down 
into  a  nervous  invalid.  The  rumor  was  an  unwar 
ranted  distortion  of  fact,  yet  she  took  no  pains  to  con 
tradict  it. 

There  certainly  were  days  in  which  she  felt  far 
100 


Prosperity 


from  well,  and  her  normal  state  was  one  of  languid 
indifference  to  much  that  went  on  about  her.  She 
received  a  few  intimate  friends  very  cordially ;  but  even 
these  visits  she  rarely  returned,  and,  in  the  scheme  of 
her  daily  life,  formal  entertainment  was  no  longer 
considered.  The  dinners  given  in  their  new  house 
were  all  Gordon's  now,  and  the  men  were  so  much 
happier  without  her  that  she  did  not  intrude  upon 
them,  even  during  the  awkward  preliminary  moment 
of  the  drawing-room.  Gordon,  when  she  was  asked 
for,  always  answered  that  she  was  well,  and  then 
changed  the  subject  immediately.  Thereby,  perhaps 
without  intending  to  do  so,  he  contrived  to  give  the 
impression  that  his  wife's  health  was  a  matter  best  left 
undiscussed.  When  he  happened  to  be  detained  down 
town  he  sometimes  dined  at  the  club.  Oftener  he  re 
paired  to  the  club  for  the  evening  after  dining  at  home, 
to  take  a  hand,  perhaps,  at  whist  or  poker,  and  hold 
it  into  the  small  hours.  A  very  good  clubman,  the 
bachelors  declared.  And  they  began  to  vote  him  in 
upon  committees,  as  a  jolly  good  fellow  with  a  faculty 
for  business.  These  club  friends,  new  and  old,  were 
in  the  habit  of  asserting,  as  though  they  really  meant 
it,  that  Gordon  Wise  was  devotedly  fond  of  his  wife. 
If  some  high-spirited  being  of  the  opposite  sex  vent 
ured  to  challenge  the  statement  when  it  had  been 
made  in  her  hearing,  good  affirmative  evidence  was 
promptly  forthcoming.  Of  course,  he  went  to  the 

IOI 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

club  more  or  less.  But  then,  his  wife  was  a  hopeless 
invalid.  He  could  not  rationally  be  expected  to  stay 
at  home  holding  her  hand  all  the  time. 

It  would  have  surprised  and  grieved  Gordon  Wise 
inexpressibly  to  know  that  the  faintest  doubt  existed 
of  his  affection  for  Nina.  He  loved  her  above  all 
women,  and  in  his  own  belief  the  love  stood  foremost, 
above  all  minor  things.  It  was  for  her  that  he  toiled 
at  the  daily  occupation  which,  by  degrees,  engaged 
him  more  and  more.  He  was  proud  of  the  perceptible 
gain  in  worldly  respect,  influence,  and  other  material 
advantages, — creature  comforts, — which  could  be  reck 
oned  her  gain  as  well  as  his.  The  sentiment  domi 
nating  his  courtship  and  now  his  married  life  remained 
intact,  set  apart  in  a  shrine,  so  to  speak,  and  he  failed 
to  perceive  that  its  expression  had  suffered  a  change 
which  threatened  to  make  it  more  than  defective.  His 
perception  sharpened  itself  on  one  side  at  the  expense 
of  the  other.  The  commercial  instinct  is  a  blessing 
when  kept  within  bounds,  but  if  carried  to  excess  it 
may  easily  become  a  curse.  Gordon  Wise  had  his 
due  proportion  of  it;  and,  now  that  the  atmosphere 
in  which  he  breathed  was  impregnated  therewith,  he 
stood  in  great  danger  of  reversing  the  philosopher's 
order  by  hitching,  not  the  wagon  to  the  star,  but  the 
star  to  the  wagon. 

At  that  point  in  his  career  a  very  slight  thing 
would,  probably,  have  opened  his  eyes  and  changed 

1 02 


Prosperity 


his  course.  There  are  times  when  a  gentle  word 
means  more  to  a  man  than  a  stern  command,  when 
the  clasp  of  a  child's  hand  is  stronger  than  a  grip  of 
iron.  Human  fate,  so  called,  seems  largely  to  de 
pend  upon  an  insensible  adjustment  arising  from  the 
juxtaposition  of  little  things.  And  in  this  case  the 
essential  word  never  suggested  itself,  the  tender,  in 
fluential  grasp  was  wholly  wanting.  Nina,  like  her 
father,  made  self-reliance  her  dearest  virtue.  She  in 
herited,  too,  her  mother's  spirit  of  forbearance;  no  word 
of  complaint  stood  in  her  vocabulary.  And  irrevocably 
it  was  decreed  that  their  household  would  always  be 
a  childless  one.  To  them  both  this  knowledge  brought 
bitter  disappointment,  though  each  kept  the  full  extent 
of  it  studiously  concealed  from  the  other.  The  paternal 
instinct  is  second  only  to  its  maternal  counterpart; 
and  so  strong  a  hold  upon  us  has  that  civilizing  ele 
ment  in  rebellious  nature  that  even  the  most  confirmed 
cynic  of  celibacy  develops  secret  longings  for  a  child 
to  lead  him.  Every  woman,  of  course,  is  a  mother 
at  heart,  while  the  rational  man,  in  marrying,  eagerly 
hopes  to  become  a  father  as  well  as  a  husband.  When 
the  shadow  of  their  great  desire  unfulfilled  fell  between 
these  two  they  faced  the  inevitable  with  a  determi 
nation  to  make  the  best,  nay,  even  light  of  it,  before 
the  world.  But  the  shadow  darkened,  none  the  less, 
depriving  them  as  it  did  of  that  strongest  possible 
interest  known  to  poor  humanity,  which  they  should 

103 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

have  shared,  and  in  default  thereof  giving  undue  em 
phasis  to  individual  interests.  Greater  freedom,  in  one 
sense,  they  certainly  had  than  most  husbands  and 
wives  of  their  age  and  experience;  yet,  hemmed  in,  as 
they  were,  by  circumstance,  this  very  freedom  proved 
to  them  a  graver  misfortune  than  any  conceivable  from 
the  common  service  induced  by  complicated  family 
ties. 

Money-getting,  not  with  a  view  to  miserly  accumu 
lation,  but  for  the  sake  of  what  money  would  buy,  was 
the  engrossing  pursuit  to  which  Gordon  Wise  yielded, 
to  which  other  tastes  and  desires  were  subordinated. 
Naturally  open-handed,  he  entertained  lavishly,  then 
extravagantly,  and  showed  a  sudden  fondness  for  dis 
play  that  provoked  a  smile  from  those  who  contrasted 
it  with  the  enforced  simplicity  of  his  bachelor  days. 
One  does  not  criticise  an  agreeable  host  very  harshly, 
however,  for  setting  his  standard  a  trifle  too  high,  and 
Gordon  wore  his  new  luxurious  habits  so  easily  and 
so  gracefully  that  they  soon  seemed  natural  to  him. 
He  never  counted  cost,  he  liked  companionship;  at 
his  own  table  he  was  cordial,  genial,  tactful  always. 
There  these  qualities  speedily,  as  such  qualities  will, 
surrounded  him  with  a  set  of  friends,  among  whom 
he  became,  for  the  time  being,  the  acknowledged 
leader.  Business  friends  they  were  chiefly,  none  too 
profound,  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  seldom  dull.  All 
that  passed  with  him  for  dulness  Gordon  carefully 

104 


Prosperity 


avoided.  He  was  never  seen  now  at  formal  func 
tions;  he  made  no  effort  to  do  his  duty  to  society.  It 
took  very  little  of  that  to  bore  him,  as  he  frankly  con 
fessed.  And,  in  fact,  those  who  knew  him  well  ob 
served  that,  even  when  alone  with  them,  dining  among 
his  boon  companions,  he  was  almost  ill  at  ease  as  a 
guest.  Maecenas,  to  do  himself  justice,  must  always 
sit  at  his  own  feast. 

For  a  time  Nina  undoubtedly  did  her  best  to  keep 
pace  with  her  husband  in  his  business  schemes,  listen 
ing  patiently  to  his  chronicle  of  the  day's  events  down 
town,  studying  the  newspapers  to  learn  the  state  of 
the  market,  and  striving  to  ask  him  intelligent  ques 
tions.  There  are  women  who  take  a  keen  enjoyment 
in  such  matters,  who  would  even  be  competent  to 
grasp  the  situation  in  a  "  deal  "  or  a  "  corner  "  if  oc 
casion  offered.  But  Nina  was  not  of  these.  Her 
resemblance  to  her  father  did  not  extend  to  com 
mercial  aptitude.  On  the  contrary,  facts,  figures,  and 
statistics  first  bewildered,  then  bored  her.  The  easy 
lessons  learned  in  them  by  steady  application  she 
failed  to  remember.  The  very  plans  of  Nokomis,  the 
aforementioned  northwestern  port,  her  father's  pet 
speculation,  and  consequently  her  husband's,  really 
interesting  in  their  way,  proved  little  better  than  blue- 
and-white  perplexities  to  her.  She  began  desperately 
to  perceive  that  her  questions,  far  from  being  intelli 
gent,  were  mere  betrayals  of  stupidity,  and  she  ceased 

105 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

to  put  them.  While  Gordon,  on  his  side,  refrained 
more  and  more  from  entering  into  details  of  his  daily 
life  when  he  talked  with  her,  and  contented  himself 
with  the  simplest  general  statements.  His  wife  be 
came  by  degrees  the  exponent  of  household  affairs, 
in  managing  which  she  displayed  what  seemed  to  him 
unusual  skill.  This  was  her  line,  evidently,  and  with 
it  he  scarcely  needed  to  concern  himself  at  all.  She 
was  the  power  behind  the  throne  at  the  quiet  dinners 
which  went  off  so  well  without  her,  a  fact  that  Gor 
don  frequently  emphasized  when  the  time  came  for 
an  informal  toast  after  the  note  of  praise  had  been 
sounded.  What  wonder  if  the  guests  who  drank  her 
health  felt,  as  they  did  so,  that  their  hospitable  host 
was  particularly  fortunate  in  his  wife,  and  went  away 
prepared  to  insist  that  the  sympathy  between  the  two 
had  never  known  a  parallel  ? 

Nina's  most  intimate  friend  was  still  Suzette  Brink- 
ley,  who  had  the  keenest  possible  sense  of  loyalty,  and 
would  have  died  rather  than  betray  her  confidence 
by  any  word  or  sign.  But  in  all  that  related  to  her 
individual  happiness  or  the  reverse,  Nina,  so  frank 
and  open  upon  other  matters,  far  from  confiding,  ex 
erted  herself  to  deceive.  In  this  defective  world  of 
ours  one  might  almost  as  reasonably  expect  to  find 
a  heaven  on  earth  as  a  perfect  intimacy.  Life's  little 
game  of  give  and  take  never  can  be  played  with  the 
cards  upon  the  table.  We  must  submit  to  our  friends' 

106 


Prosperity 


reserves,  be  blind  to  scars,  and,  if  the  unhealed  wound 
exists,  be  careful  not  to  probe  it.  As  an  offset,  we 
are  free  to  follow  a  similar  line  of  concealment  on 
our  own  side.  The  weak  points,  which  youth  leaves 
unguarded,  experience  learns  to  protect,  more  or  less 
skilfully,  as  the  case  may  be.  For,  as  no  two  natures 
are  alike,  the  barriers  are  always  unequal.  In  this 
particular  instance  Nina  constructed  her  Chinese  wall 
with  so  much  care  that  her  friend  had  for  a  long 
time  but  the  faintest  suspicion  of  what  lay  behind  it; 
and  the  suspicion,  as  aforesaid,  no  human  power  could 
have  induced  that  loyal  friend  to  reveal. 

Suzette,  though  just  of  Nina's  age,  was  much 
younger  in  experience,  and,  still  cherishing  youthful 
illusions  about  confidence,  fancied  herself  as  open  as 
the  day,  or  as  she  innocently  conceived  it  her  duty  to 
be  with  one  to  whom  she  had  sworn  eternal  friendship. 
Yet  the  conscientious  performance  of  duty  is  some 
times  no  easy  matter,  and  Miss  Brinkley  found  herself 
unexpectedly  embarrassed  when  she  was  brought  face 
to  face  with  it  in  a  morning  talk  with  Mrs.  Wise.  The 
morning  was  a  fine  autumn  one,  rather  more  than  a 
year  after  their  visit  together  at  Brinkwood.  They 
had  been  separated  during  the  summer  months,  and 
Suzette,  returning  to  town  for  the  winter,  looked  in 
upon  Nina,  whom  she  found  languidly  reclining  in 
her  boudoir,  busy  with  housekeeping  accounts.  But 
these  were  all  postponed  for  a  friendly  comparison  of 

107 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

notes,  which,  following  their  natural  sequence,  finally 
brought  up  at  Newport,  where  Miss  Brinkley  had 
passed  the  last  few  days.  Concerning  her  adventures 
there  she  wished  to  make  a  small  disclosure,  but  in 
trying  to  determine  how  to  begin  it  she  grew  preoc 
cupied,  hesitated  in  her  speech,  and  helplessly  left 
one  of  her  sentences  unfinished.  After  an  awkward 
pause  Nina  looked  up  in  surprise,  remarking : 

"The  Selbys  were  there,  you  say?" 

"  Yes,  the  Selbys." 

"And  who  else?     Any  men?" 

"  Only  Hammond  Long.    And  he " 

Here  speech  failed  Miss  Brinkley  for  the  second 
time.  She  changed  color,  and  became  absorbed  in  the 
complicated  pattern  of  the  Persian  rug. 

"  Why,  Suzette,  dear,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Wise,  suddenly  receiving  a  new 
impression,  which  she  desired  to  confirm  without 
delay. 

"  Why,  the  fact  is  that  I  have  something  to  tell  you. 
We  must  tell  each  other  everything,  dear,  mustn't 
we?" 

"  Of  course,"  declared  Nina,  with  ready  duplicity; 
"  everything;  but  you  need  not  tell  me  this.  I  know; 
it  is  Mr.  Long." 

"  Yes,  dear,  it  is,"  said  Miss  Brinkley,  turning  scar 
let;  "though  how  you  guessed  so  quickly  I  can't  see. 
I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing, — really  never  until 

1 08 


Prosperity 


we  met  this  time  at  Newport.  Then  I  began  to  won 
der  if, — and  then,  one  afternoon,  when  we  were  on 
the  cliff-walk  alone,  he  asked  me.  He  talked  so 
earnestly,  so  modestly  about  himself.  He  seemed 
to  care  so  much;  he  is  really  a  good  fellow,  you 
see." 

"  I  see.    And  you  said  '  yes.'  " 

"  Why,  no;  that's  just  it,  Nina  dear.  I  have  always 
liked  him,  and  I  told  him  so,  as  I  tell  you.  But,  some 
how,  I  could  not  make  myself  say  any  more  then.  So 
I  said  '  no.'  " 

"You  have  refused  him?" 

"  No;  for  he  would  not  be  refused.  He  could  not 
take  my  answer  then,  he  said.  He  insisted  that  I 
must  consider  it  a  little  longer.  It  was  only  fair  to 
him,  he  declared,  to  think  the  matter  over,  and  write 
him  my  final  decision  at  the  end  of  the  week.  What 
could  I  do?  It  was  left  so.  And  the  week  ends  to 
morrow." 

"  I  understand.     You  have  not  answered." 

"  Precisely.  And  how  am  I  to  answer,  that  is  the 
question?  It  sounds  very  absurd,  yet  I  really  do  not 
know  whether  I  love  the  man  or  not.  I  like  him, 
and  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  making  him  unhappy,  or 
making  him  detest  me,  perhaps.  But — that  is  all. 
I  wanted  to  tell  you  this — to  ask  your  advice." 

Nina,  full  of  interest,  was  sitting  up  now,  alert,  with 
heightened  color. 

109 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

"  How  can  I  advise?  "  she  asked,  after  a  moment's 
thought.  "  You  are  the  one  to  decide.  You  must  do 
it  alone,  you  know,  after  all.  No  one  else  can  be  of 
any  use.  Yet  I  cannot  help  thinking  that,  so  far 
as  I  am  able  to  judge,  your  question  answers  it 
self." 

"  My  doubt  proves,  you  mean,  that  I  do  not  love 
Mr.  Long  well  enough  to  marry  him." 

"  Suzette,  answer  me  one  question.  Could  you  let 
the  world  go,  and  live  only  for  him,  alone  with  him, 
in  a  lighthouse,  on  an  island  ?  " 

Miss  Brinkley  smiled.  "What  a  question!"  she 
said,  emphatically.  "  There  is  no  man  living  with 
whom  I  could  do  that." 

"  Then,  my  dear,  don't  marry  this  one.  It  will  be 
hard  to  write  your  '  no,'  I  admit ;  hard  to  make  him 
unhappy,  as  you  will,  for  a  time.  But  that  is  surely 
better  than  to  bring  unhappiness  upon  you  both  for 
life  afterward." 

Speaking  thus  very  gently,  yet  with  a  note  of  con 
straint  in  her  voice  that  was  unusual,  Mrs.  Wise  looked 
down  at  her  left  hand  and  adjusted  the  rings  upon  it, 
as  if  their  momentary  relation  to  one  another  were  a 
matter  of  supreme  importance.  Suzette  sat  motion 
less  and  silent,  resolutely  keeping  back  the  tears  which 
strove  to  fill  her  eyes.  Then,  rising,  she  stooped  and 
kissed  her  friend,  impulsively. 

"  Thank  you,  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  am  the  one  to 
IIO 


Prosperity 


decide,  of  course, — the  only  one.  Well,  I  have  de 
cided.  I  really  think  that  my  mind  was  made  up,  and 
that  I  merely  wanted  to  be  justified.  It  is  always  so, 
I  suppose,  when  we  ask  advice.  To  marry  Mr.  Long 
would  be  a  cruel  mistake  on  my  part ;  that  is  perfectly 
clear." 

"  You  will  do  what  is  best,  I  know,"  replied  Nina, 
taking  her  offered  hand.  "  But  don't  go  yet,  please 
don't.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else.  I  have  fifty 
questions  to  ask  you." 

They  were  questions  of  Newport  and  the  world,  to 
which,  at  first,  Miss  Brinkley  gave  the  simplest  an 
swers.  Then,  coming  to  herself,  she  went  merrily  on 
in  her  own  way  with  amiable  gossip  of  one  acquaint 
ance  and  another,  till  at  last  she  introduced  a  name 
that  Nina  had  been  careful  not  to  speak,  though  it 
interested  her  more  than  all  the  rest. 

"  Oh!  and  by  the  way,"  incoherently  remarked  the 
visitor,  "  I  almost  forgot  to  tell  you.  I  heard  at  New 
port  that  our  old  friend,  Paul  Hemming,  has  come 
home  again.  I  have  not  seen  him  yet,  but  he  has 
been  in  the  country  several  days." 

"Has  he,  indeed?     For  a  visit,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  at  all, — to  live.  He  means  to  establish  him 
self  here  in  a  new  studio.  An  American  must  flourish 
as  best  he  can  in  America,  he  says.  Quite  splendid  in 
him,  I  think,  considering  what  a  risk  the  change  must 
be  and  what  he  sacrifices!  His  success  in  Paris  has 

ill 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

been  really  wonderful.  A  medal  at  this  year's  Salon, 
and  the  picture, — a  portrait, — immediately  snapped  up 
by  the  State  for  the  Luxembourg!  The  men  over 
there  think  that  he  has  lost  his  senses.  They  urged 
him  to  stay  on  and  follow  up  the  hit  he  has  made  at 
his  own  prices.  He  might  so  easily  become  the  fashion 
there.  It  is  all  a  question  of  that  in  portrait-painting, 
you  know.  But  he  simply  would  not  listen." 

"  Why  should  he?  He  brings  his  reputation  with 
him.  Let  him  become  the  fashion  here." 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  he  hopes  to  do,  no  doubt.  But 
there  the  thing  was  almost  assured,  and  in  New 
York  he  must  begin  all  over  again,  they  told  him. 
Our  buyers  have  a  stupid  habit  of  going  to  Europe 
for  their  fine  arts.  His  argument  is  that  another  year 
in  Paris  would  make  an  exile  of  him,  and  that  exile 
is  intolerable.  He  would  rather  starve  at  home,  he 
says,  than  submit  to  it.  He  will  devote  himself  en 
tirely  to  portraits  at  first,  though  this  is  by  no  means 
what  he  cares  most  to  do.  Why  do  you  look  at  me 
so  hard?" 

Nina  laughed.  "  A  cat  may  look  at  a  king,  they 
say, — or  at  a  queen.  You  seem  to  know  Mr.  Hem- 
ming's  plans,  his  arguments,  his  inmost  thoughts  by 
heart,  my  dear." 

"  Nonsense!  "  returned  Miss  Brinkley,  laughing,  too, 
but  with  a  shade  of  annoyance.  "  I  heard  the  whole 
story  from  Margaret  Selby,  who  has  already  given 

112 


Prosperity 


him  a  commission.  She  admires  his  work  immensely, 
and  thinks  that  he  should  be  encouraged.  Naturally, 
the  whole  experiment  is  most  interesting,  and  so, 
naturally,  I — I — that's  all.  Can't  you  see?  Can't  you 
understand?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  laughed  Mrs.  Wise.  "  The  experiment 
is  much  more  interesting  than  Mr.  Long's." 

"Nina!  How  can  you?"  cried  Suzette,  in  a  flush 
of  indignation.  "  I  haven't  seen  the  man  for  years; 
I  hardly  know  him!"  Her  eyes  flashed,  her  hand 
trembled.  It  was  touch  and  go  between  tears  and  a 
quarrel. 

"Oh,  Suzette!  Really!  It  was  only  a  joke,  a  child 
ish  one, — so  stupid,  so  silly  of  me!  I  didn't  mean 
anything;  you  know  I  didn't." 

"  Of  course,  you  didn't.  And  I'm  an  idiot,  an  im 
becile,"  confessed  Miss  Brinkley,  cheerfully.  Then 
both  laughed;  the  sun  burst  through  the  cloud,  and 
the  threatened  danger  was  averted. 

But  a  few  moments  later,  when  her  guest  had  taken 
leave,  after  an  affectionate  interchange  of  smiles  and 
embraces,  Mrs.  Wise  grew  grave  again.  She  lay  still 
for  some  time,  with  closed  eyes  and  brow  slowly  con 
tracting,  as  if  with  pain.  Then,  half  turning,  she  looked 
at  the  reflection  of  her  face  in  a  small  glass  that  stood 
on  the  table  at  her  side. 

"  How  white  it  is!  "  she  moaned.  "  Such  a  fearful 
headache !  "  Turning  toward  the  wall,  she  rang  the 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

bell.  "  I  shall  not  come  down  to  luncheon,"  she  told 
the  maid.  "  Bring  me  something  here.  A  cup  of  tea, 
that  is  all.  And  draw  the  shade  down, — lower, — 
lower,  please ! " 


X 

THE   HAMMER   AND   THE   ANVIL 

T  T  PON  landing  in  New  York  after  his  long  ab- 
^—'  sence,  Paul  Hemming  had  gone  directly  into 
the  country  to  visit  the  rich  amateur  who,  by  his  com 
missions,  had  made  the  painter's  Italian  journey  pos 
sible.  And  he  was  still  under  his  patron's  roof  when, 
some  days  later, — two  days,  in  fact,  after  Suzette 
Brinkley's  morning  call  upon  Nina, — there  came  a 
letter  from  Gordon  Wise  claiming  the  right  to  his 
next  visit.  His  room  was  ready;  he  should  be  his 
own  master,  free  to  come  and  go  as  he  liked;  but  in 
the  name  of  their  old  friendship,  both  the  writer  and 
his  wife  insisted  upon  having  him  as  their  guest,  if 
only  for  a  few  days,  before  he  settled  down.  This  was 
the  cordial  tone  of  the  invitation,  which  Hemming  at 
first  tossed  aside  with  a  bitter  laugh.  '  That  is  a  little 
hard!  "  he  muttered.  "  For  what  do  they  take  me?" 
As  if  his  peculiar  state  of  mind  about  their  marriage 
were  an  open  book.  But  he  had  gained  ground  since 
the  broken  day  in  San  Gimignano,  when  the  news 
came  with  startling  significance  to  serve  as  a  glass 
for  his  own  sad  reflection.  The  very  next  morning, 
indeed,  he  had  forced  himself  back  to  work  upon  his 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

copy  of  the  Santa  Fina,  manfully  looking  his  sorrow 
in  the  face,  with  the  conviction  that,  since  heroic  treat 
ment  was  essential,  the  sooner  it  began  the  better.  As 
a  rational  being  he  must  meet  the  world  and  his  share 
of  its  conflict  without  morbid  repining.  Hours  of  re 
action,  even  days  which  were  wholly  despondent,  had 
followed.  But  through  all  these  his  resolution  to  fight 
had  triumphed.  Was  not  the  unexpected  form  which 
sorrow  now  assumed  due  entirely  to  himself?  Cold 
comfort  this,  perhaps;  but  even  cold  comfort  is  better 
than  none  at  all  in  dealing  with  the  inevitable. 

So,  at  this  later  day,  after  a  momentary  struggle, 
Hemming  reversed  his  judgment,  and  decided  to  ac 
cept  his  friend's  invitation.  A  refusal,  even  in  the 
strongest  terms  of  regret,  wrould  have  an  unfriendly 
air,  sure  to  offend.  He  could  not  deal  thus  with  his 
old  comrade.  Solely  on  this  ground,  as  he  declared 
to  himself,  he  fixed  the  date  of  his  visit,  and  prepared 
for  the  new  trial,  a  part  of  the  inevitable,  to  be  lived 
down  like  the  rest.  But  behind  this  simple  motive 
lay  another,  scarce  admitted,  which,  no  doubt,  he 
would  have  indignantly  disclaimed;  that,  namely,  of 
a  dangerous  curiosity  to  see  Nina  in  her  new  relation, 
— intimately,  as  the  daily  intercourse  of  the  proposed 
visit  would  enable  him  to  do.  He  had  a  strange,  half- 
developed  longing  to  watch  and  study  her  under  the 
changed  conditions.  Did  he  hope,  then,  for  any  lin 
gering  trace  of  the  feeling  toward  him  which  he 

116 


The  Hammer  and  the  Anvil 

believed  to  have  existed  formerly?  Certainly  not. 
And  nothing  could  have  been  farther  from  his  thoughts 
than  to  betray  by  any  word  or  sign  the  present  state 
of  his  own  mind  regarding  her.  No;  it  was  merely  a 
survival  of  childhood,  that  may  crop  out  occasionally 
in  any  man  to  his  dying  day — a  restless,  reckless  in 
clination  to  play  with  fire,  lighting  the  match  and 
starting  the  blaze  for  the  fun  of  the  thing,  in  the  belief 
that  the  dreadful  element,  subject  to  its  controlling 
force,  may  be  quenched  at  a  moment's  warning. 

Late  in  the  twilight  of  a  November  afternoon  Gor 
don  brought  home  his  guest,  accordingly,  to  begin 
his  visit  in  the  most  conventional  manner  possible. 
Nina  was  seated  at  the  tea-table,  from  which  she  rose 
to  receive  Mr.  Hemming  with  a  friendly  air,  so  pleas 
antly  familiar  that,  after  the  first  word  or  two,  his 
own  freedom  from  constraint  surprised  him.  With 
out  awkward  pauses  they  were  soon  discussing  the 
day's  affairs,  as  if  they  had  parted  but  the  day  before. 
She  had  changed  very  little,  as  he  thought,  when  he  was 
left  alone  to  dress  for  dinner;  somewhat  older,  some 
what  paler,  perhaps,  yet  she  was  still  the  same.  So  the 
dreaded  situation  passed,  without  the  shock  which  he 
had  half  expected.  There  had  been  nothing  of  the 
kind  on  her  part,  at  all  events:  nothing  apparent  at 
least,  as  he  was  sure,  on  his  own. 

At  table  the  talk,  led  by  his  host,  ran  lightly  on, 
while  Hemming  silently  noted  the  comfortable  ap- 

117 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

pointments  of  the  room,  the  faultless  service.  Long 
before  the  meal  ended,  yielding  to  its  genial  glow,  he 
forgot  the  strangeness  of  the  new  conditions.  Not 
until  afterward  did  it  occur  to  him  that  Gordon's  own 
affairs  had  formed  the  chief  topic  of  conversation,  the 
personal  pronoun  coming  to  the  front  more  frequently 
than  any  other;  and  he  was  able  to  dismiss  the  after 
thought  with  the  sense  that  this  was  not  unnatural, 
in  view  of  their  long  separation.  So  Nina  must  have 
considered  it,  since  she  made  no  attempt  to  stem  the 
tide  of  self-obtrusion.  Her  attitude  was  mainly  one 
of  light  and  cheerful  acquiescence,  heavily  clouded 
for  a  few  moments,  however,  when  Hemming  in 
quired  the  state  of  her  mother's  health.  He  earnestly 
wished  that  he  had  thought  twice  before  becoming 
solicitous  about  that,  for  Mrs.  Stanwood  was  far  from 
well,  as  it  proved.  The  subject  was  changed  imme 
diately,  but  the  anxious  look  it  brought  in  Nina's  face 
was  slow  to  disappear.  The  too  inquisitive  guest  had 
touched  and  rattled  inadvertently  one  of  the  skeletons 
in  this  well-ordered  household. 

As  Mrs.  Wise,  according  to  her  husband's  statement, 
approved  of  tobacco-smoke,  the  two  men  followed  her 
at  once  into  the  drawing-room.  There  the  friendly 
guest,  expanding  like  a  flower  through  the  favorable 
influences  of  time  and  place,  was  moved  to  say  what 
joy  he  took  in  them,  and  to  compliment  the  master 
and  mistress  of  the  house  upon  its  ample  provision 

118 


The  Hammer  and  the  Anvil 

for  his  comfort.  Gordon  brushed  away  the  pleasant 
speeches  with  a  smile,  admitting  that  all  was  passably 
well  in  its  way,  but  adding  that  he  found  the  way  far 
too  narrow  a  one  for  him.  He  had  outgrown  it,  as  he 
said,  and,  feeling  cramped  at  every  turn,  needed  room 
to  stretch  himself.  "  But  I  am  providing  that,  as  no 
doubt  you  have  heard,"  he  continued.  Then,  upon 
Hemming's  inquiring  look,  he  left  the  room  for  a 
moment,  to  come  back  with  a  huge  roll  of  papers, 
which  he  spread  out  upon  the  table.  "See!  This  is 
my  new  house  up  town ;  the  walls  are  half  done ;  I 
shall  roof  in  before  the  snow  comes.  Ask  for  me 
a  year  hence,  and  you  shall  find  me  a  comfortable 
man !  " 

Hemming  drew  up  to  the  table,  and  listened  to  an 
explanation  of  the  drawings,  in  which  it  was  clear 
that  their  possessor  took  unbounded  enjoyment.  The 
change  contemplated  was,  indeed,  for  the  better;  so 
much  better,  in  fact,  that  the  scale  might  well  have 
been  called  grand  in  contrast  to  existing  conditions. 
Gordon's  self-gratification  in  the  fact  grew  as  he  pro 
ceeded.  But  Hemming  soon  observed  that  Mrs.  Wise 
did  not  profess  to  share  it.  Without  so  much  as  a 
glance  at  the  plans,  leaving  all  the  talk  to  her  husband, 
she  sat  apart,  listless,  immovable,  staring  into  the  fire. 
Until,  after  a  full  half-hour  of  silent  indifference,  she 
rose  abruptly  to  murmur  a  suitably  courteous  good 
night,  and  glide  away.  If  the  smile  upon  her  lips,  as 

119 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

she  turned  at  the  door,  was  intended  to  disguise  her 
fatigue,  it  failed  completely;  but  whether  the  fatigue 
was  mental  or  physical  Hemming  could  not  be  sure. 
Had  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  another  skeleton  in  the 
house?  he  asked  himself.  If  so,  the  accident  was  not 
due  this  time  to  any  heedlessness  of  his.  Perhaps  he 
had  misconceived  the  case,  detecting  hidden  disturb 
ances  where  none  existed.  This  train  of  thought  led 
him,  naturally  enough,  into  a  mild  indiscretion. 

"  Mrs.  Wise  looks  a  little  tired,"  said  he.  "  She  is 
well,  I  hope." 

"  Tired?  Oh,  no;  not  a  bit  of  it!  "  Gordon  replied. 
"  She  is  well,  perfectly  well.  Have  a  cigar,  my  dear 
fellow!  This  is  the  best  hour  of  the  day;  I  am  a  night- 
owl  always." 

So  they  talked  on  by  the  fire,  through  that  best  hour 
and  another,  or,  rather,  while  Paul  listened,  it  was 
Gordon  who  talked  of  his  own  personal  relation  to 
the  world,  of  his  past  success,  his  prospects,  his 
schemes,  and  his  desires.  Only  once,  for  a  time,  was 
their  attitude  in  the  conversation  reversed,  when  Gor 
don  expressed  anxiety  to  know  upon  what  work  Paul 
was  engaged.  But  it  soon  appeared  that  the  painter 
had  misunderstood  the  question,  which  referred  less 
to  the  work  itself  than  to  the  sum  of  money  likely  to 
be  made  out  of  it.  Paul,  though  he  could  not  wholly 
disregard  the  commercial  side  of  his  affairs,  had  reso 
lutely  given  this  a  secondary  place.  To  produce  the 

1 20 


The  Hammer  and  the  Anvil 

best  that  was  in  him  still  remained  the  head  and  front 
of  his  ambition.  If  that  brought  butter  for  his  bread, 
well  and  good;  butter  was  palatable,  and  not  to  be 
despised.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  no  butter  was  forth 
coming,  he  must  eat  dry  bread  without  complaint. 
Pot-boiling,  of  which  the  world  is  always  ready  to 
speak  so  glibly,  was  to  Paul  Hemming  an  impossible 
offence.  The  odious  term  should  have  no  place  in  an 
artist's  dictionary.  With  difficulty  concealing  his  im 
patience,  therefore,  at  Gordon's  tone  in  the  matter,  he 
soon  led  the  conversation  back  into  its  former  channel. 
"What  an  irrepressible  egotist  you  have  become!" 
he  thought,  a  little  later,  when  Gordon  had  closed  the 
chamber-door  upon  him,  and  he  was  left  alone  for  the 
night.  Upon  the  hearth  glowed  the  embers  of  a  fire. 
He  stirred  them,  and  sat  down.  "  She  has  found  him 
out!  "  he  muttered,  "  and  she  is  far  from  happy.  What 
fiend  led  me,  of  all  men,  here  to  pry  into  their  secrets? 
The  first  strain  is  over,  but  it  was  harder  than  I 
thought;  it  will  grow  harder  every  day,  every  hour. 
Would  to  God  I  were  out  of  it!  " 

A  small  rack  of  books  stood  on  the  table  beside 
him.  He  looked  at  their  titles,  and  fancied  that  they 
had  been  carefully  chosen  for  his  benefit.  A  volume 
of  Dauclet,  another  of  Dumas,  Fromentin's  Old  Mas 
ters,  Leconte  de  Lisle,  the  reflections  of  the  cynic 
Chamfort.  He  took  up  the  last,  and,  opening  it  at 
random,  read  two  lines: 

121 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  One  must  be  hammer  or  anvil  in  this  world.  The 
heart  must  break  or  bronze." 

He  closed  the  book  and  laid  it  down.  "  The  ham 
mer  or  the  anvil!  "  he  repeated  with  a  shiver,  drawing 
toward  the  chimney-corner  to  touch  the  last  brand  of 
the  fire  in  an  attempt  to  revive  its  flame.  But  the 
charred  fragment  sank  into  the  ashes,  gray  and  cold. 
"  The  hammer  and  the  anvil  it  should  be,  with  the 
heart  between  them,  sacrificed  perversely  to  their  ten 
der  mercies!  It  cannot  break,  it  must  not;  it  will  only 
bruise, — and  bronze!  But  hers?  But  hers?"  He 
shivered  again,  and  walked  the  room  nervously,  to 
overcome  its  chill.  "  But  hers  ?  Who  shall  say  it  is 
not  already  broken?  And  what  is  that  to  me?  She 
has  her  sorrows,  I  have  mine;  yet  our  paths  lie  wide 
apart, — they  are  not  even  parallel,  but  diametrically 
opposed.  She  must  live  her  life.  But,  good  God, 
what  a  life!  Ah,  why  did  I  intrude  upon  it  to  consider 
these  things?  " 

So,  brooding  round  the  circle  to  the  point  of  depart 
ure,  he  went  to  bed  and  tossed  into  troubled  dreams. 
But  morning  brought  a  calmer  frame  of  mind,  with 
a  disposition  to  leave  "  without  regard  things  without 
all  remedy."  It  was  an  unexpected  relief  to  find  that 
Mrs.  Wise  would  not  appear  at  breakfast.  The  hurried 
meal  he  ate  in  Gordon's  company.  Thence  each  de 
parted  to  take  up  the  day's  practical  affairs.  Hem- 
ming's  day  was  given  over  to  sitters,  who  left  him 

122 


The  Hammer  and  the  Anvil 

little  time  for  thought  that  did  not  directly  concern 
his  work.  Walking  back  to  Wise's  house  in  the  dusk 
he  blessed  the  good  fortune  which  had  bestowed  upon 
him  this  distraction  from  his  inner  self.  Twenty-four 
hours  of  his  uncomfortable  visit  were  already  over, 
and  there  were  to  be  guests  at  dinner,  as  he  knew.  The 
more  of  these  that  came,  the  better;  he  found  safety 
in  their  possible  numbers;  the  hours  to  be  passed 
alone  with  his  host  and  hostess  were  the  ones  he 
dreaded;  above  all,  a  tcte-a-tete  with  Nina.  Anything 
but  this !  Yet  he  need  not  waste  fear  upon  it,  per 
haps,  since  their  first  day  had  been  so  well  considered. 
The  others  would  fly  fast,  and,  with  a  little  care  on 
his  part,  the  dreadful  experience  might  be  avoided. 
Most  devoutly  he  hoped  so! 

But  the  hope  failed  him.  The  fiends  were  at  work, 
and  they  brought  all  their  cunning  to  bear  upon  the 
mischance,  which  came  through  a  combination  of  ac 
cidents  when  it  was  least  expected.  Hemming's  visit 
had  worn  nearly  to  its  close,  with  a  perceptible  in 
crease  in  the  weight  of  his  secret  discomfort.  Inti 
mate  daily  life,  with  the  close  observation  that  it 
provoked,  tended  only  to  confirm  his  first  judgment. 
Gordon's  absorption  was  purely  individual,  leaving  him 
blind  to  his  wife's  inert  acquiescence,  to  the  unhappi- 
ness  which  she  tried  so  hard  to  disguise,  while  her 
attitude  distressed  the  partial  observer  more  and  more. 
So  the  life  went  on  to  a  certain  day,  when  Gordon 

123 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

announced  at  breakfast  that  the  guests  of  the  even 
ing  had  given  out  unexpectedly,  and  that  the  three 
would  dine  alone.  But  upon  Hemming's  return  at 
night  Nina  met  him  with  the  news  that  her  husband 
was  detained  down  town.  He  had  sent  word  that, 
owing  to  the  arrival  of  a  Western  magnate  whose  in 
fluence  was  all-powerful,  his  evening  must  be  given 
up  to  business.  Their  guest  would  understand  and 
forgive  him.  But  the  guest,  despite  his  smiling  assur 
ance  to  this  effect,  inwardly  cursed  his  inauspicious 
star. 

So  the  two,  with  a  closer  interchange  of  thought 
suddenly  thrust  upon  them,  sat  down  at  the  table,  and 
began  to  talk  with  constrained  lightness,  in  happy-go- 
lucky  fashion,  of  anything  that  came  up, — of  almost 
everything,  in  fact,  except  of  what  must  inevitably 
have  been  nearest  their  hearts.  Before  long  Hemming 
felt  that  he  had  never  worked  so  hard  to  say  so  little. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  chattering  nonsense 
which  would  have  discredited  the  idlest  butterfly  of  a 
ball-room.  But  Mrs.  Wise  persistently  forced  the  note, 
wafting  the  gossamer  web  of  their  ideas  higher  and 
higher,  without  so  much  as  a  single  lapse  to  any  rea 
sonable  level.  In  accomplishing  this  she  showed  a 
captivating  side,  which  Hemming  had  half  forgotten. 
There  was  more  in  it  of  the  youthful,  irresponsible 
Nina  Stanwood,  devoted  only  to  the  joy  of  the  fleeting 
moment,  than  of  Nina  Wise. 

124 


The  Hammer  and  the  Anvil 

When  they  returned  to  the  drawing-room  after  din 
ner  the  light  vein  still  continued,  while  the  servants 
came  and  went,  bringing  the  coffee  and  stirring  the  fire. 
But  as  soon  as  the  two  were  finally  left  alone  a  reaction 
set  in.  Nina's  high  spirits  seemed  suddenly  to  die 
away;  there  was  a  long  silence,  during  which  Hem 
ming,  watching  her  furtively  between  the  puffs  of  his 
cigar, — for  she  had  directed  that  he  should  smoke, — 
believed  that  she  showed  signs  of  nervous  exhaustion. 
He  was  about  to  urge  her  to  treat  him  unceremoni 
ously  by  dismissing  all  fear  of  his  inability  to  entertain 
himself,  when  Mrs.  Wise  resumed  the  conversation, 
with  a  difference,  by  an  inquiry  about  his  work;  and, 
following  this  up  in  one  or  two  well-chosen  leading 
questions,  she  soon  induced  him  to  speak  unreservedly 
of  it,  of  his  plans,  of  his  prospects.  The  snare  was 
spread,  and,  caught  unawares,  he  permitted  himself  to 
be  drawn  on  into  confidences.  Nina  moved  to  a  low 
seat  by  the  fire,  where,  no  longer  restless,  with  her 
hands  quietly  clasped,  she  listened  patiently,  sympa 
thetically,  and  approved.  Then  she,  herself,  uncon 
sciously  became  involved  in  her  own  meshes,  so  cun 
ningly  set  for  him;  forgetting  how  surely  confidence 
induces  confidence,  when  all  conditions  are  favorable. 
So,  as  Hemming  stopped  short  in  the  middle  of  a 
sentence,  with  a  sudden  apprehension  of  discoursing 
too  long  upon  his  personal  affairs,  she  sighed,  and 
said: 

125 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"How  you  are  to  be  envied!  To  follow  the  art 
you  love,  and  follow  it  so  wisely!  " 

"  Wisely?  "  he  repeated,  smiling.  "  Do  you  admit 
so  much?  I  suppose,  then,  you  have  quite  forgot 
ten  your  urgent  advice  to  follow  it  in  a  different 
way." 

The  color  in  her  face  slowly  deepened,  and  she  held 
out  her  open  fan  to  protect  herself  from  the  blaze. 
"  No,"  she  said,  without  looking  up,  "  I  have  not  for 
gotten.  Yet  I  am  quite  willing  to  admit  that  I  was 
wrong.  I  only  feared  that  you  might  stay  away  alto 
gether,  as  other  painters,  indeed,  have  done.  But 
the  years  have  brought  you  back,  stronger  for  the 
experience,  still  true,  I  am  convinced,  to  your 
ideal." 

"  I  hope  so !  "  said  Hemming,  sighing  in  his  turn. 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  she  insisted.  "Ah!  if  Gordon 
could  have  done  the  same!  If  he  could  follow  his 
chosen  profession,  as  you  follow  yours!  " 

"  He  has  what  I  have  not,"  Hemming  returned, 
quickly.  "  And,  for  the  matter  of  that,  why  shouldn't 
he  yield  to  his  artistic  tastes,  and  follow  them  to  the 
top  of  his  bent, — professionally  or  otherwise, — in  his 
leisure  hours?  " 

"No,  no;  you  do  not  understand.  That  is  impos 
sible,  for  more  reasons  than  one.  To  begin  with,  he 
pledged  himself  to  forget  them.  It  was  the  price  he 
paid." 

126 


The  Hammer  and  the  Anvil 

"  I  see.  He  has  lost,  and  gained;  I  gain,  and  lose. 
One  score  offsets  the  other,  since  there  never  was  a 
perfect  life  in  this  world.  Who  shall  say  which  of  us 
has  won  the  game?  " 

Nina  shook  her  head.  "The  game?"  she  asked; 
"what  is  the  game?  Happiness?  If  so,  it  can  never 
be  won  by  the  pursuit  of  money  for  its  own  sake.  And 
there  is  Gordon's  danger.  It  absorbs  him  more  and 
more.  I  fear  that  he  has  come  to  care  for  very  little 
else.  You  must  have  seen  the  change  in  him." 

"  He  is  a  business  man,"  returned  Hemming, 
evasively,  "  and,  naturally,  he  makes  business  his  first 
thought.  It  need  not  be  his  only  one." 

"  No;  but  it  will  be,  unless  his  eyes  are  opened.  And 
how  is  that  to  be  done?  Your  influence  might  ac 
complish  much.  He  believes  in  you,  admires  you. 
Who  knows?  A  word  from  you,  perhaps,  would  turn 
the  scale.  Say  the  word,  I  implore  you,  before  it  is 
too  late.  Convince  him,  if  you  can,  that  his  standard 
of  success  is  a  false  standard!" 

She  had  turned  upon  him  with  an  appealing  look 
for  which  and  for  her  spoken  appeal  he  was  so  little 
prepared  that  his  own  look  wandered  away,  and  when 
she  finished  speaking  his  eyes  avoided  hers.  There 
was  an  embarrassing  silence,  broken,  at  last,  by  her. 

"  You  think  it  would  do  no  good,"  she  said,  hope 
lessly. 

"  More  than  that,"  he  replied.  "  I  fear  that  such  a 
127 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

word  from  me  might  do  positive  harm.  Either  he 
would  not  listen,  or,  suspecting  who  prompted  the  word, 
would  take  offence  at  it.  In  either  case,  all  I  could  say 
would  be  worse  than  useless.  But  with  you  the  case  is 
different.  You  have  the  right  to  speak.  Why  not  do 
so  frankly?  Be  just  to  him !  If  the  means  obscure  the 
end,  the  end  is  always  there.  The  success  he  aims  at  is 
all  for  you." 

"  For  me !  "  she  began,  mournfully ;  her  first  impulse 
being  to  assure  him  that  she  had  good  reason  to  believe 
the  contrary.  Then,  suddenly  aware  that  her  disclosure 
of  imperfect  sympathies  had  already  gone  farther  than 
she  intended,  she  checked  herself,  and  began  anew,  with 
an  attempt  at  cheerfulness : 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,  entirely  right.  It  is  I  who  must 
speak,  of  course,  as  I  should  have  spoken  before.  I 
have  been  foolish,  exacting ;  I  have  expected  too  much 
of  Gordon,  forgetting  how  much  he  readily  gave  up  for 
me.  It  is  nothing,  after  all,  nothing  that  a  single  word 
will  not  set  right.  Forget  my  absurd  complaint,  which 
is  only  the  expression  of  a  mood.  We  women  have  so 
many, — but  it  is  always  a  mistake, — such  a  mistake, — 
to  betray  them !  " 

And  Hemming,  not  deceived  in  the  least,  suffered  her 
to  believe  in  the  completeness  of  her  small  deception. 
The  dangerous  subject,  thus  dismissed,  was  not  re 
sumed.  Only  afterward,  he  reproached  himself  for 
withholding  a  full  measure  of  his  sympathy. 

128 


The  Hammer  and  the  Anvil 

"  It  is  written  that  I  shall  fail  her  always  at  the  criti 
cal  moment !  "  he  thought,  bitterly.  "  And  there  is  no 
help  for  it.  I  settled  the  question,  long  ago.  I  can  only 
plunge  on  miserably  from  one  false  step  to  another, 
hiding  the  truth  that  I  learned  too  late,  that  it  would  be 
madness  to  reveal.  It  is  written, — it  is  written !  Mein 
Lieb,  wir  sollen  Beide  elend  sein!  " 

"  He  might  help  me,  if  he  would !  "  at  the  same  mo 
ment  Nina  was  thinking.  "  But  he  shrank  from  giving 
offence, — pitiful  excuse !  For  me  life  and  death  are  in 
the  balance,  and  he  thinks  of  himself  first,  as  all  men 
do!" 

So,  in  the  hidden  confusion  of  misunderstanding, 
with  the  calmest  pressure  of  the  hand  on  both  sides, 
Hemming's  visit  ended  a  day  or  two  later,  convention 
ally,  as  it  began.  He  devoted  himself  zealously  to  his 
work,  and  for  some  time,  as  chance  willed  it,  saw  no 
more  of  Mrs.  Gordon  Wise.  But  the  same  chance,  or 
mischance,  willed  that  he  should  think  of  her  more  than 
ever.  Scarcely  a  week  after  leaving  her  roof,  he  read 
in  his  newspaper  the  announcement  of  her  mother's 
death;  and  he  was  told  that,  though  Mrs.  Stanwood's 
health  had  been  steadily  failing,  the  shock  had  come 
with  a  swiftness  for  which  Nina  was  unprepared ;  that, 
entirely  crushed  by  it,  she  refused  to  be  consoled,  de 
nying  herself  even  to  intimate  friends.  All  his  barriers 
of  reserve  went  down  before  the  knowledge  of  what 
this  grief  must  mean  to  her.  He  wrote  a  long,  sympa- 

129 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

thetic  letter,  every  word  of  which  came  from  the  heart. 
This  letter  was  left  unanswered.  He  had  begged  her 
not  to  acknowledge  it,  hoping,  all  the  while,  that  she 
would  disobey  him. 


130 


XI 

CLOUD- CAPPED   TOWERS 

THE  matter  which  detained  Gordon  Wise  down 
town  on  the  night  of  Nina's  impulsive  effort  to 
confide  in  Hemming  was  of  graver  importance  than  the 
hurried  note  to  her  had  suggested.  The  Western  mag 
nate,  Mr.  Bullifant,  whom  Anthony  Stanwood  desired 
that  Gordon  should  meet,  brought  very  stirring  news, 
of  a  kind  to  compel  immediate,  decisive  action.  It  was 
a  great  year ;  the  harvest  had  been  magnificent ;  the 
"  boom,"  without  exaggeration,  might  be  called  un 
precedented.  And  this  boom  their  splendid  city  of 
Nokomis,  the  only  true,  natural  port  of  the  Northwest, 
should  accept  at  its  worth,  and,  as  that  high  authority 
eloquently  foreordained,  sweep  straight  along  to  glory ! 
If  they  doubted  him,  let  them  consider  for  an  instant 
the  rival  town,  Wenonah !  A  few  years  ago  Wenonah 
was  a  group  of  hovels  in  a  wilderness ;  now,  she  was 
forging  ahead,  blowing  her  own  trumpet,  snorting  and 
foaming  like  a  race-horse,  on  the  crest  of  this  mighty 
wave  of  prosperity  which  surged  over  the  land  from 
the  rising  to  the  setting  sun.  Why,  did  they  realize 
that  Wenonah  was  building  brick  blocks  by  the  dozen, 
and  that  she  actually  claimed  a  population  equal  to 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

theirs  of  Nokomis  at  the  last  census?  The  claim  was 
absurd,  of  course, — everybody,  who  knew,  understood 
that, — they  were  counting  chickens  that  would  never 
hatch,  even  with  the  aid  of  patent  incubators;  but 
everybody  did  not  know,  unfortunately,  and  very  thick 
wool  was  being  pulled  over  innocent  eyes  with  shame 
ful  impudence.  Something  had  got  to  be  done,  by  all 
that  was  holy,  right  off,  too,  or  Nokomis  and  the  whole 
country  with  her  would  go,  post-haste,  to  the  devil ! 
And  that  was  God's  truth  ! 

Thus  Mr.  Bullifant  held  forth  to  Anthony  Stanwood 
and  his  son-in-law,  while  the  three  dined  together,  pri 
vately,  in  a  restaurant  of  lower  Broadway.  His  argu 
ments,  based  upon  a  sagacity  that  had  been  tried  and 
approved,  carried  far  too  much  weight  for  the  doubt 
of  which  he  so  valiantly  offered  them  the  benefit.  Mr. 
Bullifant  was  of  Canadian  origin ;  but  the  family  had 
transferred  its  allegiance  to  the  stars  and  stripes  in  the 
time  of  his  grandfather,  who,  after  an  easy-going  fash 
ion  not  uncommon,  had  quietly  adopted  the  current 
perversion  of  his  patronymic, — Bellefontaine.  The 
present  speaker, — one  of  the  city  fathers  of  Nokomis, — 
was  a  marked  man  in  his  section  of  the  country,  which 
he  had  represented  in  Congress,  where,  from  his 
enormous  stature,  he  had  been  nicknamed  the  "  Big 
Injun."  In  truth,  mentally,  as  well  as  physically,  he 
was  vast,  expansive,  florid ;  excessively  so,  his  enemies 
said.  But  in  the  opinion  of  his  constituents, — a  pow- 

132 


Cloud- Capp'd   Towers 

erful  faction, — his  grasp  of  things  was  keen  and  com 
prehensive,  and  he  looked  toward  the  future  from  a  tow 
ering  height.  In  their  words,  "  His  say-so  went !  " 

When  this  fulminating  Sir  Oracle  proclaimed  God's 
truth,  therefore,  in  the  statement  that  something  had 
got  to  be  done,  Anthony  Stanwood  knew  what  it  meant ; 
and  he  declared  himself  ready  to  do  anything  and 
everything,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  to  down  Wenonah." 
Not  only  were  his  large  interests  in  Nokomis  at  stake, 
but  his  absolute  power  over  a  dominion,  which,  as  the 
Winnipeg  King,  he  had  been  accustomed  to  call  his 
own,  was  also  in  jeopardy.  Wenonah  must  be  downed 
without  delay;  if  she  was  building  dozens  of  brick 
blocks,  Nokomis  should  build  them  by  the  hundred ; 
they  would  push  the  new  electric  railway  out  in  all  di 
rections, — he  pledged  himself  to  that ;  they  would  hus 
tle  with  the  Court  House, — hustle  with  the  City  Hall. 
His  face  flushed,  his  eyes  snapped,  and  his  schemes  of 
improvement  grew,  as  he  talked,  like  a  snow-ball.  It 
presently  appeared  that  what  Nokomis  really  needed 
was  the  largest  and  highest  office-building  in  the  coun 
try, — in  the  country,  mind  you,  sir, — with  Mr.  Bullifant 
to  stand  upon  its  summit  and  roar  until  the  boom  of 
Nokomis  resounded  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  "  And  by 
the  Lord  !  "  shouted  the  Winnipeg  King,  as  he  pounded 
the  table  till  the  glasses  rattled,  "  by  the  Lord,  Bullifant, 
you  shall  have  it !  " 

The  spirit  of  destruction  was  aroused  to  aid  and  abet 

133 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

the  spirit  of  avarice.  Indeed,  the  latter  "  good  old-gen 
tlemanly  vice,"  for  the  time  being,  merely  danced  at 
tendance  upon  blood  and  rapine.  To  the  Winnipeg 
King  and  his  barbarous  confederate  the  thought  of 
stamping  out  Wenonah  was  even  more  inspiring  than 
the  hope  of  incalculable  gain.  Gordon  sat  silently  by, 
an  amused  spectator  of  their  savage  frenzy,  in  which 
the  main  lines  of  an  aggressive  campaign  were  hastily 
determined.  He  knew  that  all  their  fortunes  depended 
upon  the  issue,  yet  the  knowledge  brought  him  no  un 
easiness.  The  meridian  splendor  of  Mr.  Stanwood's 
sound  financial  judgment  reduced  apprehensible  shad 
ows  to  their  lowest  terms. 

So  the  train  was  laid,  the  mine  was  fired,  and  in  a 
few  days,  with  the  Winnipeg  King's  reserves  at  his 
back,  the  Big  Injun  returned  to  the  war-path  for  con 
fusion  to  his  enemies.  Thence,  in  due  course,  were 
flashed  eastward  glowing  reports  of  his  success.  He 
had  worked  the  legislature  for  all  it  was  worth,  knock 
ing  the  ground  from  beneath  Wenonah's  feet;  nay, 
leaving  her  no  leg  to  stand  upon !  And  from  her  ashes 
Nokomis  soared  like  the  phoenix,  fabled  bird  of  old! 
This,  three  months  later,  was  the  situation  in  Mr.  Bulli- 
f ant's  discerning  but  not  wholly  unprejudiced  eyes. 
Meanwhile,  the  city  fathers  of  Wenonah,  looking  their 
way  upon  the  self-same  prospect,  had  the  audacity  to 
tell  their  eastern  correspondents  a  very  different  story. 
According  to  that,  Nokomis,  straining  every  nerve  to 

134 


Cloud-Capp'd  Towers 

advance,  had  overtaxed  her  strength,  and  was  already 
floundering  pathetically.  Any  fool  could  see  that  the 
Wenonah  route  was  much  the  shorter  one  to  tide-water. 
Hers,  therefore,  was  the  only  true  terminus  toward 
which  all  the  freight  lines  of  the  continent  now  con 
verged.  The  daily  increase  in  shipments  proved  that 
the  wise  had  already  taken  their  easy  lesson  to  heart. 
Figures  could  not  lie,  however  bellowing  braggarts 
might  strive  to  distort  the  honest  facts.  Let  the  treach 
erous  boom  once  slacken  for  a  single  hour,  and  all  rose- 
colored  clouds  of  that  sort  would  be  dispelled.  Then, 
the  world  would  see ! 

Though  the  spring  brought  heavy  rains  of  long  con 
tinuance,  threatening  ruin  to  the  crops,  the  boom  still 
held  its  own,  apparently  unchecked.  But,  in  the  midst 
of  it  all,  Nokomis  encountered  one  of  those  sudden 
gusts  of  misfortune  which  Fate,  from  her  plentiful 
store,  delights  to  set  free  without  a  moment's  warning. 
Fire,  of  uncontrollable  fury,  swept  over  it  in  the  night, 
and  when  morning  came  its  finest  quarter  was  laid  low 
in  smouldering  ash-heaps.  This  trial  was  a  severe  one ; 
yet,  after  the  first  shock,  Mr.  Bullifant  and  his  asso 
ciates  made  light  of  it  resolutely, — even  to  the  point  of 
declining  the  aid  from  Wenonah,  magnanimously  of 
fered  with  expressions  of  sympathy,  which  were  given 
wide  publicity;  while,  at  the  same  moment,  these  too 
eager  benefactors  of  the  rival  city  exchanged  covert  al 
lusions  to  that  overworked  bird  of  fable  the  phoenix, 

135 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

which  now  Nokomis  might  generate,  herself,  if  she 
pleased,  from  her  own  rich  bed  of  ashes.  Similar  ref 
erences  were  made  openly,  with  the  utmost  gravity,  by 
the  eastern  capitalists  who  stood  behind  Nokomis,  the 
stalwart  Anthony  Stanwood  and  the  time-honored 
house  of  Harvey,  Long  and  Co.  being  prominent  among 
them.  Her  progress,  they  declared,  might  be  retarded 
but  not  arrested  by  a  disaster  which,  sooner  or  later, 
was  the  common  lot  of  cities ;  in  proof  whereof  they 
began  their  process  of  regeneration  before  her  black 
ened  bricks  were  fairly  cold.  The  calamity,  neverthe 
less,  was  of  a  nature  to  make  prudent  investors  pause 
and  reflect.  So  far  as  Nokomis  went  the  great  North 
western  boom  had  slackened  its  rate  of  speed. 

Meanwhile,  old  Anthony  Stanwood,  never  halting, 
never  flinching  for  an  instant,  obstinately  held  his 
course  with  grim  determination.  He  had  transformed 
the  open  suburbs  of  Nokomis  into  close  lines  of  city 
streets,  encircled  and  united  by  his  network  of  electric 
railways.  The  expansion  proceeded  from  an  enormous 
outlay  for  which,  at  present,  there  could  be  no  adequate 
return.  The  buildings  were  leased  at  a  nominal  rent, 
or  stood  darkly  vacant,  while  the  railway  system,  to 
maintain  its  privileges,  ran  at  a  loss.  But  the  result, 
thus  rendered  for  the  moment  almost  intangible,  had 
all  the  semblance  of  solidity.  The  Winnipeg  tyrant's 
resources  were  so  vast  that  he  could  afford  to  give  scope 
to  his  will,  which  must  in  the  end  work  out  its  own  sal- 

136 


Cloud-Capp'd  Towers 

vation.  The  wheel  would  come  full  circle,  and  he  would 
reap  what  he  had  sown.  It  was  only  a  question  of  time, 
which  of  all  men  he  could  bide  most  comfortably.  This 
was  the  prevalent  opinion  of  "  the  street,"  when  the 
situation  was  discussed  there ;  an  opinion  shared  by 
Gordon  Wise,  whose  full  possession  of  the  facts  and 
figures  might  have  led  to  grave  misgivings  had  he  stood 
a  little  farther  from  the  throne.  But  he  was  blinded  by 
its  light,  in  a  position  further  complicated  by  the  sub 
ordinate  nature  of  his  office  in  these  high  emprises. 
Through  them  all  he  remained  the  mere  factotum  of 
an  absolute  dictator,  bound  to  obey  orders  unhesitat 
ingly,  without  the  smallest  consideration  of  their  wis 
dom.  Upon  these  terms  only  was  a  quiet  life  possible 
to  him.  He  had  discovered  that  long  ago,  and  had 
submitted  to  the  yoke,  once  for  all ;  the  more  readily 
that  his  faith  in  the  great  schemer's  star  was  bound 
less. 

All  time  that  Gordon  could  call  his  own  was  given 
now  to  the  new  house,  which  would  be  ready  for  oc 
cupancy  in  the  autumn.  The  details  of  its  completion 
were  to  him  of  absorbing  interest,  and  his  ideas  on  all 
points  defined  themselves  so  clearly  that  his  wife's  tacit 
agreement  in  them  seemed  but  a  natural  deference  to 
his  superior  knowledge.  If,  at  first,  he  would  have  pre 
ferred  a  fuller  note  of  sympathy  in  the  decided  expres 
sion  of  her  views  for  argument  or  acquiescence,  as  the 
case  might  be,  he  soon  learned  to  do  without  it.  After 

137 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

her  mother's  death,  given  over  for  a  long  time  to  brood 
ing  grief,  she  withdrew  into  herself,  and  could  not  be 
induced  to  consider  the  plans  at  all.  And  when,  with 
the  advance  of  summer,  the  work  approached  its  final 
stages,  Nina  was  out  of  town,  so  that  reference  to  her  of 
the  minor  considerations  which  arose  daily  and  hourly 
became  impossible.  Many  of  these  might  easily  have 
been  left  for  her  approval  upon  Gordon's  weekly  visit ; 
but,  acquiring  the  dictatorial  habit,  he  settled  them  in 
his  own  way  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  in  general  terms, 
at  the  week's  end,  reported  satisfactory  progress,  which 
always  seemed  a  sufficient  answer  to  her  spiritless  in 
quiries. 

In  consequence  of  Mrs.  Stanwood's  death  the  great 
house  at  Tarrytown  remained  closed  this  year.  Nina 
was  only  too  thankful  to  escape  the  care  of  it,  as  well 
as  its  painful  associations ;  and  her  father,  himself,  had 
suggested  an  arrangement  which  left  him  for  once  an 
independent  wanderer,  with  headquarters  in  a  corner 
of  his  town  establishment,  free  to  come  and  go  as  he 
pleased.  Gordon  and  Nina  had  hired  at  Newport  a 
small  cottage  standing  well  apart  from  the  fashionable 
current,  and  thus  exactly  suited  to  their  needs.  There 
could  be  no  doubt,  as  Gordon  sometimes  reflected,  when 
he  returned  to  it  from  week  to  week,  that  the  quiet  open- 
air  life  was  doing  his  wife  a  world  of  good.  She  had 
regained  color,  and  looked  more  like  her  old  self  than 
for  many  a  day.  If  only  she  would  take  active  interest 

138 


Cloud- Capp'd  Towers 

in  things !  Meaning  thereby  the  things  he  cared  about, 
which  engrossed  him  more  and  more. 

One  afternoon,  when  he  had  left  his  office  at  an  early 
hour,  and  was  whirling  up-town  in  the  train  for  a  look 
at  the  new  walls  which  ere  long  would  be  golden,  a 
sudden  thought  impelled  him  to  change  his  course  and 
to  descend  at  the  next  station,  into  a  side  street  which 
led  directly  to  Paul  Hemming's  studio.  The  two  friends 
had  not  met  for  some  time;  they  were  drifting  apart 
perceptibly ;  but  Gordon  had  decided  that  this  state  of 
things  must  not  continue,  and  that  a  word  from  him 
should  change  it  for  the  better.  Full  of  this  resolve, 
he  knocked  at  the  painter's  door.  Paul  was  within, 
disengaged  as  it  happened,  and  welcomed  him  cor 
dially. 

"  What  good  luck  to  find  you  alone !  "  said  Gordon. 
"  You  have  no  model  coming,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No.  My  work  for  the  day  is  done.  I  was  just 
thinking  of  a  walk." 

"  All  the  better !  Then  walk  with  me.  I  am  off  for 
a  look  at  my  new  home.  Will  you  come  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure ;  but  let  me  put  up  my  brushes  first, — 
it  won't  take  long.  Sit  down  and  wait.  There's  a  pros 
pect  for  you !  " 

As  he  spoke,  Hemming  drew  aside  the  curtain  from 
a  lower  window,  and  motioned  his  visitor  to  an  easy- 
chair  that  stood  near.  Gordon  perched  upon  the  arm  of 
it,  and  smiled. 

139 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  The  roofs  of  all  New  York !  "  said  he.  "  And  mine 
among  them !  " 

"  Ah  !  which  is  yours  ?    I  had  not  recognized  it." 

"  Up  there  to  the  right, — in  line  with  the  tall  chim 
ney, — under  the  cloud  of  white  smoke.  A  gable  of  gray 
slate, — do  you  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  the  painter,  following  the  indica 
tions  and  pausing  to  look  a  moment  longer  with  his 
brushes  in  his  hand;  "  what  a  strange  jumble  of  good, 
bad,  and  indifferent  it  all  is !  A  fermenting-vat,  sim 
mering  under  a  smoke-counterpane,  as  old  Carlyle  said 
of  London.  No  trace  of  composition  anywhere, — with 
a  sky  surpassing  Italy's !  " 

Gordon,  slightly  bored,  turned  from  the  window  to 
the  studio-walls.  "  You're  well  off  for  room  here,"  he 
commented.  "  Much  better  than  your  old  place,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  must  leave  it  all,  worse  luck !  "  replied 
Hemming,  from  an  inner  room,  where  he  splashed  over 
his  brush-cleaning.  "  They  are  to  pull  this  building 
down  for  one  of  their  infernal  sky-scrapers,  leaving  me 
roofless.  No  other  place  that  I  can  find  suits  me  in  the 
least.  So  I  store  everything  next  week.  Better  luck,  I 
hope,  in  the  autumn." 

"  That's  a  good  thing !  "  cried  Gordon,  stopping  in 
his  tour  of  inspection  before  a  small  pencil  drawing; 
"  a  capital  likeness,  too !  I  don't  remember  seeing  it 
before." 

140 


Cloud- Capp'd  Towers 

"  What's  that?  "  inquired  Paul,  returning  for  a  mo 
ment  to  the  light.  "  Oh  !  the  sketch  of  Miss  Brinkley ; 
it  was  done  from  memory.  I  am  very  glad  you  like  it. 
And  thereby  hangs  a  tale,"  he  continued,  laughing. 
"  For,  by  chance,  her  father  stumbled  upon  it  here,  the 
other  day,  and  commissioned  me  on  the  spot  to  make 
a  portrait  of  her.  I  go  to  Newport  next  week  for  that 
purpose." 

"  Newport  ?  Oh,  yes  !  The  Brinkleys  have  the  Mur 
ray  house  over  on  the  ocean  drive, — miles  away  from 
us,  though  my  wife  sees  them  sometimes,  I  believe." 

"  Your  wife  is  there,  too?  Of  course,  I  had  almost 
forgotten.  She  is  well,  I  hope?  " 

"  Perfectly  well.    You  are  ready?    Shall  we  go?" 

They  went  accordingly,  and  in  another  quarter  of  an 
hour  stood  before  the  huge  pile  of  brick  and  stone  which 
would  make  Gordon  Wise,  as  he  had  once  declared,  a 
comfortable  man. 

"  Stupendous !  "  Hemming  exclaimed.  "  It  is  like 
the  corner  of  a  Chateau  en  Espagne — Touraine,  I 
mean." 

"  Oh,  the  outside  is  well  enough,"  Wise  admitted, 
modestly ;  "  yet  it  disappoints  me  a  little ;  somehow,  it 
promised  more  on  paper.  The  inside  scheme  holds  its 
own  better, — you  will  see." 

In  truth,  Hemming  found  all  within  of  amazing 
completeness.  The  luxurious  note  struck  at  the  very 
portal  was  somewhat  too  high,  perhaps,  for  perfect 

141 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

taste,  with  the  Latin  poet's  famous  recommendation  of 
simple  adornment  in  one's  mind;  but,  this  conceded, 
there  could  be  no  doubt  that  the  desired  effect  was 
reached  and  well  sustained  throughout.  The  splendor 
had  been  so  carefully  considered  that  the  house,  bare, 
unfurnished,  as  it  stood,  already  seemed  like  some  gem 
of  a  palace  in  the  old  world.  So  even  the  fastidious 
painter  thought  and  said  when,  after  making  their 
round,  they  returned  to  the  main  floor,  where  two  fine 
drawing-rooms  opened  into  a  hall  beyond,  destined  for 
music. 

"It  is  a  real  piano  nobile!"  Hemming  continued. 
"  My  dear  fellow,  you  have  outdone  the  Barringtons. 
This  is  more  than  comfort.  You  will  live  lapped  in  lux 
ury  in  your  Aladdin's  palace." 

"  Even  without  the  roc's  egg  which  Aladdin  so  care 
lessly  omitted  ?  "  asked  Wise,  laughing. 

"  Better  without  it,  if  I  remember  rightly." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  want  an  entire  and  perfect 
chrysolite.  I  have  my  roc's  egg,  too,  you  see ;  and  mine 
is  nothing  less  than  a  decoration  for  this  music-room 
from  a  master-hand.  I  need  a  frieze  here  by  Paul  Hem 
ming.  Voilatout!  Will  you  undertake  it  ?" 

"I?    Are  you  joking?  " 

"Joking?  I  was  never  more  in  earnest.  I  brought 
you  here  for  nothing  else." 

Hemming,  striding  out  into  the  middle  of  the  room, 
glanced  up  at  its  four  walls,  and  smiled.  "  It  would  be 

142 


Cloud-Capp'd  Towers 

a  fine  opportunity,  certainly, — to  spoil  a  good  thing," 
said  he. 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  answerable  for  that,"  retorted  Wise,  fol 
lowing  him.  "  And  there  is  no  hurry.  You  need  not 
make  a  single  stroke  until  you  have  satisfied  yourself. 
Take  your  own  time,  and  submit  the  design  when  you 
please." 

"  Ah,  well, — on  those  conditions " 

"  Good  ;  it's  a  bargain  !  "  said  Wise,  decisively ;  add 
ing,  as  they  turned  down  the  stairs  together,  "  So  there's 
my  roc's  egg,  new-laid !  " 

"  No,  unlaid, — still  in  the  womb  of  time,  so  to 
speak ! "  laughed  his  friend,  at  parting.  But  the 
painter's  mind  was  already  busy  with  the  new  problem, 
which  presented  a  host  of  stimulating  difficulties.  Why, 
after  all,  should  he  shrink  from  the  attempt  to  conquer 
them? 

He  had  Miss  Brinkley's  portrait  to  consider  first, 
however;  and  at  the  appointed  time  in  Newport  that 
work  began.  The  doctor  and  his  wife,  with  character 
istic  friendliness,  had  stipulated  that  the  task  they  im 
posed  must  include  a  visit  also.  He  became  thus  for 
ten  days  a  member  of  their  household,  finding  in  his 
host  and  hostess  the  rare  gift  of  unceremonious  enter 
tainment  that  keeps  the  guest  tactfully  in  mind,  yet 
annuls  all  sense  of  obligation.  The  early  hours  of  the 
day  were  devoted  to  the  sittings ;  afterward,  came  walks 
and  drives  or  social  complications,  which  he  might 

143 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

share,  or  not,  at  his  own  pleasure.  Su'zette's  mobile  face, 
he  had  imagined,  would  be  by  no  means  an  easy  subject. 
But  one  hour's  experience  reversed  this  hasty  judgment. 
Without  a  trace  of  affectation  or  awkward  self-con 
sciousness  she  really  posed  extremely  well;  somewhat 
too  silently,  at  first,  as  if  fearing  that  conversation 
would  distract  and  hinder  him;  but  upon  his  reassur 
ing  word  this  diffidence  soon  wore  away.  She  had  in 
herited  her  father's  taste  for  pictures,  and  her  knowl 
edge  of  them  surprised  him  more  and  more.  On  other 
matters,  too,  her  mental  attitude  impressed  him  as 
keen,  clear,  and  sound.  He  had  quite  forgotten  how 
agreeable  a  companion  she  could  be.  This  community 
of  spirit  lightened  his  laborious  hours  and  made  them, 
for  the  most  part,  fly  like  minutes.  Only  once,  indeed, 
did  time  call  a  halt  to  lag  persistently.  They  were 
speaking  of  decorative  work  in  art,  ancient  and  mod 
ern,  and  Miss  Brinkley  asked  if  he  had  ever  been 
tempted  to  try  his  hand  at  it.  Thereupon,  impulsively 
revealing  the  circumstances  of  the  present  temptation 
under  which  he  labored,  he  passed  from  Gordon  Wise's 
new  house  to  Gordon  himself  and  his  new  burden  of 
responsibilities.  Thence,  by  a  natural  suggestion,  he 
was  led  to  inquire  for  Gordon's  wife,  who  still  lived  in 
retirement,  it  appeared,  never  making  visits,  showing  a 
morbid  tendency  to  shrink  even  from  her  nearest 
friends.  Miss  Brinkley  had  not  seen  her  for  many 
days,  and,  after  deploring  the  fact,  became  subdued 

144 


Cloud-Capp'd  Towers 

and  thoughtful.  Hemming,  oppressed  by  this  unwonted 
solemnity,  veered  from  one  subject  to  another,  striv 
ing  to  counteract  it ;  but  in  vain.  The  sitter's  mind  was 
clouded  by  this  disturbing  thought,  whatever  it  was, 
and  he  could  not  overcome  the  strange  little  shade  of 
preoccupation.  His  last  half-hour  was  wasted  that 
morning ;  the  sitting  came  to  an  end  almost  in  silence. 
Left  to  himself,  he  puzzled  over  the  cause,  wondering  if 
the  fault  were  his.  Probably  not,  as  he  concluded  after 
ward  at  luncheon,  where  Suzette  seemed  quite  herself 
again.  So,  considering  that  the  mysterious  cloud  no 
longer  vexed  her  mind,  he  dismissed  it  from  his  own. 

Late  that  afternoon,  returning  from  an  errand  in  the 
town,  Hemming  had  the  cliff-walk  almost  to  himself. 
It  was  the  hour  of  important  social  functions,  and  he 
blessed  them  one  and  all  for  drawing  away  the  world, 
while  he  took  peaceful  enjoyment  in  the  unfashionable 
prospect  of  the  shore  and  sea.  He  walked  a  mile  and 
more,  slowly,  in  a  contemplative  mood,  under  the  villa 
walls  and  gardens,  rounding  one  rocky  point  after  an 
other,  loitering  as  the  fancy  pleased  him.  One  or  two 
strangers  passed,  similarly  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of 
solitude.  Then,  suddenly,  at  a  turn  of  the  path,  he  en 
countered  a  face  by  no  means  strange, — that  of  Mrs. 
Gordon  Wise.  Its  color  deepened  with  a  flush  of  rec 
ognition,  as  he  mentally  noted  that  the  black  she  wore 
was  most  becoming  and  that  she  had  never  looked 
better. 

145 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  You  are  walking  the  other  way,"  he  said,  after  they 
had  shaken  hands ;  "  let  me  turn  back  with  you." 

"  If  you  will  be  so  kind,"  she  replied ;  "  at  least  long 
enough  to  explain  how  you  happen  to  be  in  Newport." 

"  Ah,  I  ought  to  have  explained  that  sooner, — should 
have  done  so,  you  may  be  sure,  before  leaving.  I  am 
here  for  a  few  days  only,  and  not  altogether  my  own 
master, — as  the  painter  of  Miss  Brinkley's  portrait, 
that's  all." 

"  Indeed  ?  It  is  a  fault  in  me  not  to  know,  for  I  owe 
Suzette  a  visit.  Even  of  her  I  have  been  negligent,  be 
cause — 

"  I  understand,"  Paul  said,  gently. 

"  And  of  you,  too !  I  meant  before  this  to  thank  you 
for  a  very  kind  letter.  I  have  thought  of  it  so  often, — 
and  you,  perhaps,  have  thought  me  most  ungrate 
ful." 

"  Never !  My  letter  required  no  answer.  I  expected 
none.  I  have  felt  for  you  the  deepest  sympathy — not 
to  be  expressed  in  words." 

Awaiting  her  reply,  he  turned  toward  her  involun 
tarily.  She  did  not  speak;  but  her  eyes,  meeting  his 
with  a  responsive  look,  slowly  rilled  with  tears.  There 
was  an  awkward  silence,  into  which  he  broke  with 
a  commonplace  remark  about  the  view.  So  the  moment 
of  constraint  passed,  while  they  walked  on,  talking 
easily  and  cheerfully  of  the  slighter  things  that  cast  no 
shadow. 

146 


Cloud-Capp'd  Towers 

"  And  the  portrait,"  she  said,  at  last ;  "  tell  me  more 
about  that.  Is  it  nearly  finished  ?  " 

"  Yes.  A  few  days  more  and  it  is  done.  Then  I  go 
back  to  town." 

"And  then?" 

"  Then  ?  Who  knows  ?  There  is  my  great  problem 
waiting  for  me.  I  may  be  inspired  to  solve  it." 

"  Your  great  problem !    What  is  that,  pray?  " 

"  My  title  to  immortality,  I  mean, — the  proposed 
decoration  of  which  Gordon  has  told  you." 

"  No.    He  has  left  me  in  the  dark." 

"  Then  that  is  my  fault,  not  his,"  he  said,  with  a 
smile.  "  I  hesitated,  you  see, — still  hesitate 

"  Please  go  on !  "  she  urged.  "  I  am  still  in  the  dark, 
and  the  most  curious  creature  in  the  world." 

"  Let  me  enlighten  you  at  once.  The  proposed  im 
mortal  work  is  a  frieze  for  your  new  music-room,  into 
which  I  went  for  the  first  time  the  other  day." 

"  Ah, — indeed?  " 

"  The  room  is  really  splendid.  Not  to  do  precisely 
the  right  thing  would  be  to  ruin  it.  I  could  not  see  my 
way,  at  first ;  even  now  I  am  not  entirely  sure.  But  I 
have  thought  of  a  triumphal  procession  on  classic 
lines, — very  delicately  done  it  should  be, — the  figures 
in  low  relief,  perhaps, — like  Giulio  Romano's,  at  Man 
tua.  Does  that  seem  possible?  " 

"  It  would  be  beautiful, — very  beautiful." 

"  If  I  could  carry  it  through  !  "  continued  the  painter, 
147 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

now  thoroughly  absorbed  in  his  scheme.  "  I  used  to 
dream  of  those  ideal  possibilities ;  but,  long  ago,  in  my 
'  Tithonus  '  days.  Do  you  remember  that  early  master 
piece  ?  No !  How  should  you  ?  It  was  done  in  the  dark 
ages,  before  I  went  to  France." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know.  I  have  not  forgotten, —  I  remem 
ber  it  perfectly." 

"What  a  memory!"  he  rejoined,  laughing  lightly. 
Then  he  glanced  at  her,  and  his  manner  changed.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon.  What  is  it?  What  have  I  said  that 
troubles  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered ;  "  it  is  nothing."  But 
moving  hastily  forward  to  a  wooden  bench  that  stood 
beside  the  path  she  sank  down  there,  speechless,  white 
and  still.  Following  in  alarm,  he  inquired  anxiously 
if  she  were  ill.  At  the  suggestion  she  shook  her  head, 
motioned  him  away  with  an  impatient  gesture ;  and  as 
he  turned  aside  she  burst  into  tears.  He  stared  at  her 
helplessly  in  strange  perplexity.  The  storm  passed, 
however,  as  quickly  as  it  came ;  after  a  moment  or  two 
she  recovered  self-control,  and  begged  him  to  disre 
gard  it. 

"  Please  forgive  me,"  she  continued,  quietly.  "  Let 
us  go  on ;  it  was  nervousness,  no  more.  I  am  heartily 
ashamed  of  myself." 

"Why  not  trust  me?"  he  urged.  "You  are  un 
happy, — most  unhappy.  Is  there  no  way  to  help  you  ?  " 

"  Do  not  imagine  things  that  are  not,"  she  protested, 
148 


Cloud-Capp'd  Towers 

in  the  same  quiet  voice.  "  I  am  unreasonable,  that  is 
all ;  if  you  would  help  me,  teach  me  to  be  otherwise.  I 
have  found  it  difficult  to  see  things  as  Gordon  sees 
them ;  I  still  find  it  so,  and  am  the  more  to  blame." 

"  You  never  spoke  your  word,  then  ?  " 

"  My  word  ?  To  him,  you  mean, — I  remember.  No ; 
it  would  have  come  too  late.  His  tastes  are  formed,  and 
I  must  conform  to  them, — sympathize  with  his  schemes 
of  magnificence — his  houses 

"  And  his  decorative  flights !  It  is  I  who  make  it 
harder  for  you." 

"  Don't  think  that  my  folly  is  monumental,"  she  said, 
smiling.  "  I  approve  that  scheme,  and  beg  you  to  go  on 
with  it.  Here  begins  my  expiation." 

"  Yours  to  command !  "  he  rejoined.  "  It  shall  be  as 
you  direct ;  yet  I  wish — 

"  Wish  for  me  less  sensibility,  and  more  sense.  Com 
mon  sense  is  what  I  need,  and  the  power  of  adjustment. 
States  have  been  wrecked  without  it !  Think  of  that 
when  you  remember  me  in  your  prayers,  and  think  also 
that  I  have  learned  the  error  of  my  ways,  at  least. 
Yours,  by  the  by,  is  there.  You  must  not  turn  aside 
with  me, — you  will  be  late  to  dinner.  But  you  will  come 
to  see  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

Upon  his  assurance  to  do  this,  they  parted ;  she  went 
her  way  into  the  town,  while  he  followed  the  shore  line 
again,  but  with  changed,  unperceptive  eyes  that  caught 
only  a  vague  impression  of  the  landscape.  He  was  out 

149 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

of  it  all  now,  moving  onward  in  the  flesh,  yet  in  the 
spirit  wandering  back  with  her  and  the  words  which 
she  had  spoken.  That  these  could  not  be  trusted,  he 
felt  convinced.  She  was  playing  a  part  for  his  benefit, 
putting  herself  unduly  in  the  wrong,  guarding  by  a 
general  denial  some  source  of  sorrow  mysterious  in  its 
profundity,  not  to  be  fathomed,  unless — unless? 

That  night,  after  dinner,  as  he  smoked  alone  with 
Dr.  Brinkley  on  the  terrace,  between  the  stars  and  the 
sea,  his  besetting  thought  came  uppermost  again  and 
moved  him  to  mention  his  chance  companionship  of 
the  afternoon.  He  was  desirous  to  know  if  an  observer 
so  shrewd  and  dispassionate  as  his  host  had  received 
any  impression  of  Mrs.  Gordon  Wise  which  might  be 
formulated.  With  this  object,  carefully  avoiding  the 
details  of  their  interview,  he  simply  stated  its  occur 
rence,  and  then,  cautiously  feeling  his  way,  made  a  few 
general  reflections  upon  her  prevailing  sadness  as  a 
state  to  be  deplored.  At  Hemming's  introduction  of 
her  name,  the  tip  of  the  doctor's  cigar  took  on  a  brighter 
glow,  and  he  stirred  in  his  chair,  as  if  aroused  to  fresh 
interest  by  the  change  of  subject.  But  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  his  face,  and  he  gave  no  further  sign,  until  Hem 
ming,  passing  from  effect  to  cause,  ended  by  wonder 
ing  what  that  could  be. 

Then  the  doctor  stirred  again. 

"  Don't  waste  time  over  that !  "  said  he ;  "  there  may 
be  a  definite  cause,  or  there  may  not.  In  all  probability 

150 


Cloud-Capp'd  Towers 

the  trouble  is  complex.  Running  it  to  earth  would  per 
haps  do  more  harm  than  good  to  her  and  to  ourselves." 

"  But  if,  knowing,  one  could  help  her — 

"  We  help  the  weak  and  the  faint-hearted,"  continued 
Dr.  Brinkley.  "  Nina's  character  is  essentially  a  strong 
one.  She  is  true,  high-minded,  fine — absolutely. 
There  is  no  woman  of  her  age  whom  I  respect  so  much. 
If  she  has  ills  other  than  those  that  flesh  is  heir  to,  she 
will  conquer  them  herself, — live  them  down,  you  may 
be  sure.  Let  her  alone !  You  can't  help  her." 

"  That  is  true,  I  suppose,"  Hemming  half  agreed. 
"  Yet  to  wish  it  were  not  so  is  only  the  part  of  friend 
ship." 

"  But  not  the  part  of  wisdom,"  urged  the  doctor. 
"  The  remedies  of  friendship  are  often  more  dangerous 
than  disease.  If  I  understand  the  case,  the  patient  has 
not  complained  of  unhappiness.  She  has  not  confided 
in  you  ?  " 

"  No ;  certainly  not." 

"  Then  take  an  old  man's  advice,  and  if  she  does  con 
fide,  don't  listen.  Turn  your  back ;  get  out ;  jump  over 
board  !  Laugh,  if  you  like ;  I  am  quite  in  earnest.  A 
woman  with  confidences  is  the  devil  incarnate.  Shall 
we  go  in  ?  " 


XII 

THE   SHELTERED   SIDE   OF    CARE 

A  DAY  or  two  after  his  talk  in  the  dusk  with 
-^**  Dr.  Brinkley,  Hemming  returned  to  town, — as 
it  happened,  without  seeing  Mrs.  Wise  again.  When, 
according  to  promise,  he  paid  her  his  visit,  she  was  not 
at  home.  The  small  circumstance  brought  him  mingled 
relief  and  regret;  relief,  because,  for  the  moment,  it 
left  in  abeyance  the  disquieting  problem  of  Nina's  un- 
happiness;  regret,  because,  despite  Dr.  Brink-ley's  ad 
vice,  Hemming's  interest  in  that  problem  increased 
rather  than  diminished.  Tormenting  surmises,  not  to 
be  set  aside,  made  it  his  own  problem  as  well  as  hers, 
and  led  him  to  long  irresistibly  for  its  solution.  But  of 
this  longing  he  did  his  best  to  give  no  sign.  The  doc 
tor  was  summoned  to  New  York  on  the  very  day  of 
Hemming's  departure,  and  the  two  travelled  cityward 
together  by  the  night  boat ;  yet  even  the  doctor,  with 
all  his  discernment,  could  have  had  no  notion  of  the 
growing  conflict  in  his  companion's  mind.  Their  talk 
in  the  evening  did  not  incline  to  confidences ;  they 
turned  in  early,  and  in  the  morning  met  only  for  a  hur 
ried  parting.  Hemming  had  previously  spoken  of  his 
intent  to  bury  himself  in  the  country,  far  from  social 

152 


The  Sheltered  Side  of  Care 

exactions,  for  study,  combined  with  rest.  The  doctor, 
recalling  the  fact,  wished  him  joy  of  this  happy  com 
bination.  And  so,  with  a  smile,  each  went  his  way,  put 
ting  out  of  sight  his  own  little  burden  of  cares,  whether 
private  or  professional,  and  stepping  lightly,  as  one 
must  who  would  get  on  in  the  world. 

The  doctor's  cares  were  of  both  kinds  that  day, 
which  was  intensely  hot.  But  he  kept  his  appointments, 
one  and  all,  with  such  equanimity,  that  upon  lunching 
late  in  a  shaded  club-window  with  his  cousin,  Brinkley 
Harrington,  he  was  called  to  account  for  unreasonably 
high  spirits.  Whereat  he  protested,  with  mock  con 
trition,  that  a  man's  temperament  could  no  more  be 
changed  at  will  than  those  proverbial  spots  of  the 
leopard ;  that  he  was  born  cheerful,  and  could  not  help 
himself.  After  luncheon  the  two  held  a  long  confer 
ence  upon  some  business  matters  of  grave  import, 
which,  more  than  all  the  rest,  had  called  the  doctor  to 
town.  But  even  this  failed  to  discourage  him ;  where 
Barrington  found  cause  for  depression,  he  would  none 
of  it ;  that  night  he  went  back  to  Newport,  light-hearted 
as  he  came ;  and  at  dinner  on  the  following  evening  he 
assured  his  wife  that  the  tiresome  little  journey,  for 
which  she  pitied  him,  had  done  him  only  good. 

This  was  almost  their  first  moment  to  themselves 
since  his  return.  Suzette  happened  to  be  dining  out,  so 
that  they  were  now  quite  alone,  secure  from  interrup 
tion;  and  when  coffee  came,  following  them  out-of- 

153 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

doors  upon  the  terrace,  Mrs.  Brinkley,  eager  for  con 
fidential  details,  as  good  wives  always  are,  thought  the 
time  too  favorable  to  be  lost.  She  had  cleared  the  decks 
for  action,  and  while  the  first  puff  from  the  doctor's 
cigar  rose  in  the  twilight  she  opened  fire.  Her  own  ex 
perience  seemed  to  have  been  but  a  battle  with  the  heat, 
out  of  the  world's  range,  and  she  longed  for  stirring 
news  from  the  front. 

"  You  lunched  at  the  club,  George,  didn't  you?  "  so 
she  began, — "  with  Cousin  Brinkley  Barrington  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  went  directly  there  after  the  hospital-meet 
ing.  But  the  meeting  was  a  very  long  one,  you  see, 
and " 

"  And  what  was  it  that  made  Brinkley  so  very  anx 
ious  to  see  you  ?  " 

"  An  access  of  pessimism,  my  dear.  He  has  discerned 
an  evil  tendency  in  all  mundane  things, — particularly, 
certain  of  our  investments ;  and  he  hopes  to  counteract 
a  portion  of  the  evil  by  a  change  in  them." 

"  I  understand ;  in  the  trusts  which  you  and  he  hold 
jointly." 

"  By  no  means.  The  trust-funds  are  held  upon  a 
widow-and-orphan  basis  of  security,  as  Brinkley  would 
say,  that  only  the  dissolution  of  the  great  globe  itself, 
and  all  which  it  inherits,  could  possibly  destroy.  They 
are  immutable.  The  desired  change  is  in  some  of  the 
private,  speculative  pools  into  which  I  plunged  by  his 
advice, — mirages,  I  call  them." 

154 


The  Sheltered  Side  of  Care 

"  Oh,  some  of  those  Western  things !  " 

"  Precisely.  The  West-Northwest  seems  to  be  the 
perilous  compass-point  of  the  moment.  Brinkley  has 
been  out  there  for  exploring  purposes,  and  has  come 
back  steeped  in  a  gloom  that  affects  his  outlook,  not  only 
in  that  direction,  but  in  all  others.  He  predicts  a  gen 
eral  financial  panic  in  the  near  future,  leading  to  rack 
and  ruin  and  the  Lord  knows  what  afterward." 

"  Why,  George  dear,  what  nonsense  !  " 

"  Just  what  I  told  him,  but  without  effect.  When  I 
laughed,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders ;  and  informed  me 
that  his  was  a  keen,  financial  mind,  gifted  with  second 
sight,  or,  rather,  second  knowledge, — while  mine, — 
well,  no  matter.  The  long  and  short  of  it  is  that  he 
smells  sulphur,  and  that  I  begin  to  smell  it,  too." 

"  He  convinced  you,  then  ?  " 

"  No ;  my  scent  is  only  sympathetic.  Why  should  I 
have  convictions  upon  a  matter  of  which  I  know  noth 
ing?  But  I  made  life  possible  by  giving  him  carte 
blanche  to  act  for  me, — to  sell  out  or  buy  in,  as  he 
pleases ;  then,  having  conceded  so  much,  I  took  a  dic 
tatorial  tone,  and  prescribed  calomel  for  his  low  spirits." 

"  And  did  that  cheer  him  up?  " 

"  Well,  in  a  measure.  He  disapproved  of  what  he 
called  my  levity,  but  consented  to  talk,  for  a  moment, 
of  other  things.  They  expect  Suzette  at  Brinkwood  a 
little  earlier,  it  seems, — on  the  nineteenth,  I  think  he 
said." 

155 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Brinkley,  stirring  un 
easily  ;  "  a  letter  came  to  her  this  morning.  And  this 
reminds  me, — George !  " 

"My  dear?" 

"  I  can't  help  growing  more  and  more  disturbed 
about  Suzette.  The  fact  is,  that  I  have  thought  of  noth 
ing  else  all  day." 

"  Still  brooding  over  your  one  chicken !  That  comes 
of  being  too  much  alone.  Suzette  is  well  and  happy. 
Why  distress  yourself  about  her?  Health  and  happi 
ness  are  not  to  be  despised.  She  demands  no  more. 
Why,  then,  should  you  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  older  and  wiser.  Happiness  ?  She 
does  not  understand  the  word.  No  single  woman  can." 

"  Very  flattering  to  us,  I  am  sure,  but " 

"  Now,  George,  don't  talk  to  me  in  that  way." 

"  I  haven't  talked,  my  dear." 

"  But  I  know  what  you  want  to  say,  as  well  as  if  you 
had  said  it.  You  want  to  tell  me  that  marriage  is  al 
ways  a  risk  and  sometimes  a  failure ;  to  quote  Lord 
Bacon's  stupid  essay  and  shocking  masculine  point  of 
view ;  and,  finally,  to  silence  me  altogether  with  the 
statement  that  single  blessedness  is  far  more  desirable 
than  an  unhappy  married  life.  Let  me  say  at  once, 
then,  that  I  can't  agree  in  it.  The  single  state  is  a  state 
of  resignation,  of  making  the  best  of  a  bad  business. 
For  my  part,  I  would  rather  see  my  child  unhappily 
married  than  not  married  at  all, — yes,  much  rather. 

156 


The  Sheltered  Side  of  Care 

Single  blessedness !  Single  cursedness,  George !  Now, 
what  are  you  laughing  at  ?  " 

"  I  was  only  thinking,"  said  the  doctor,  with  sudden 
solemnity,  "  how  much  time,  which  might  have  been 
lost  in  argument,  you  have  saved  me." 

"  Ah !  To  argue  on  this  point  with  me  would  be 
worse  than  useless." 

"  Heaven  forbid,  then,  that  we  should  attempt  it ! 
Marriage,  happy  or  unhappy,  is  the  only  state, — that's 
granted.  All  I  want  to  ask  is  what  makes  Suzette's  case 
so  desperate?  She  hasn't  forsworn  the  world  of  men 
that  I  know  of,  and  she  is  neither  old  nor  ugly." 

"  Old,  George  ?  She  is  twenty-seven, — nearly 
twenty-eight — 

"  I  am  corrected.  Still,  women  have  married  at 
thirty, — unhappily,  too." 

"  Now,  George,  be  serious,  if  you  can.  For  the  world 
of  men,  as  you  call  it,  Suzette  cares  less  than  nothing. 
Since  she  refused  poor  Hammond  Long,  she  seems  re 
solved  to  give  no  one  else  room  for  opportunity.  She 
surveys  all  men  from  a  height,  with  supreme  indiffer 
ence.  They  don't  like  it,  of  course.  How  should  they  ? 
That  is  not  the  way  to  encourage  a  man,  and  that  is 
why  I  am  discouraged." 

"  I  suppose  that  she  wishes  to  avoid  scenes,  based 
upon  mistaken  notions  of  encouragement.  Having 
gained  her  experience,  she  is  trying  her  hand  at  dis 
cretion.  Isn't  this  all  ?  " 

157 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  No,  George.  It  is  not  all,  I  am  convinced.  If  you 
could  hear  her  talk  to  me !  She  is  all  worldliness  and 
heartlessness.  I  can't  think  how  or  where  she  came  by 
such  dreadful  qualities.  Certainly,  from  no  ancestor  of 
mine.  She  simply  does  not  care." 

"  Ah !    You  feel  sure  of  this,  absolutely  sure  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,— to  be  sure  I  do.    Why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  Because,"  returned  the  doctor,  after  a  moment  of 
silence,  "  it  occurs  to  me  that  there  may  be  an  error  in 
your  diagnosis.  The  symptoms  are  probably  morbid, 
yet  to  my  mind  they  indicate  excess  of  care  rather  than 
its  deficiency." 

"  George,  dear,  aren't  you  well  ?  " 

"  Quite  so." 

"  Then  what  are  you  driving  at  ?  " 

"  Only  at  the  possibility  that  Suzette  may  care 
very  much  for  somebody  who  gives  no  sign,  and 
that  her  heartlessness  may  be  hopelessness  in  another 
form." 

"Why,  George,  what  an  extraordinary  idea!  Who 
is  it?" 

"  Who  is  who,  my  dear?  " 

"  The  man  she  cares  for,  I  mean." 

Dr.  Brinkley  laughed.  "  How  the  moth  flies  at  the 
flame!"  said  he.  "I  had  no  man  in  mind.  It  was 
pure  conjecture, — merely  my  inference  from  your  state 
ment  of  the  facts." 

"  Oh,  if  that's  all— 

158 


The  Sheltered  Side  ot   Care 

"  Then  it  seems  to  you  an  impossible  conclusion." 

"  Quite !  "  Mrs.  Brinkley  asserted  and  reasserted 
with  a  meditative  sigh;  "quite  impossible!" 

"  And  the  impossibility  disappoints  you.  If  I  could 
prove  to  you  on  the  spot  that  Suzette  is  pining  away 
in  desperation  for  some  monster  of  indifference,  I 
believe  you  would  be  better  pleased." 

"  Well,  why  not?  To  tell  the  truth,  George,  I  have 
longed  more  than  once  for  just  this  very  thing.  I 
want  her  to  care, — to  care  at  any  cost, — yes,  even  if 
she  cries  her  eyes  out.  I  declare  there  would  be  some 
hope  in  that !  " 

"  I  see.  A  romance  with  a  sad  ending  is  preferable 
to  no  romance  at  all." 

"  Now,  George,  it's  not  a  question  of  romance, 
but  of  human  life;  and  a  woman  with  no  tender 
ness  in  her  is  unfit  to  live.  What  can  you  say  to 
that?" 

"  I  can  say,  my  dear,  that  I  thoroughly  admire  your 
ingenuity  in  joining  the  issues  of  an  argument.  Your 
generalizations  are  most  happy,  as  well  as  incontest 
able.  But  in  your  particular  application  of  them  to 
Suzette  I  find  you  outrageously  pessimistic.  You  are 
worse  than  Brinkley  Barrington." 

"  Why,  George,  dear,  I— 

"  Really,  Susan,  I  think  I  ought  to  prescribe  calomel. 
Care  overcomes  us  all  soon  enough ;  why  rush  to  meet 
it?  Take  your  doctor's  advice,  sit  under  the  lee  of  it, 

159 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

and  don't  brood!  Watch  Suzette,  if  you  will,  and 
who  knows?  You  may  find,  after  all,  that  I  am  right 
in  my  attempt  to  account  for  her  behavior.  She  may 
be  distractedly  in  love  with  any  one  of  a  dozen  stony 
hearted  young  men.  But  so  long  as  she  does  not 
shun  their  society,  and  chooses  to  play  her  part  cheer 
fully,  I  must  be  cheerful,  too.  I  refuse  to  eat  my  heart 
out  over  a  vague  uncertainty.  Happy  spinsters  may 
be  few  and  far  between,  but  surely  there  have  been 
many  such  since  Minerva's  time.  Hark !  Is  not  that 
the  carriage?  Yes,  there  she  comes!  Look  in,  out 
of  the  dark,  and  tell  me,  if  you  can,  that  her  case  has 
reached  the  point  of  desperation." 

In  truth,  of  despair  there  was  not  the  remotest  hint 
to  be  obtained  from  the  girl's  lithe  figure,  unguarded 
in  its  aspect,  serenely  unaffected  by  the  grace  which 
was  its  vital  charm.  She  moved  swiftly  toward  them 
through  the  soft  light  of  the  drawing-room ;  stopped 
for  a  moment  to  fling  down  her  wrap,  and  to  assure 
herself  by  a  glance  that  they  were  not  indoors;  then, 
coming  on  to  the  open  window,  stepped  out  upon  the 
terrace,  and  there,  meeting  the  darkness,  stood  still 
a  moment  more.  Her  dress  was  of  pale  green,  which 
suited  her  exactly.  There  were  moonstones  about  her 
neck,  and  their  faint,  pearl-like  gleam  was  repeated 
in  the  slighter  ornament  that  glistened  in  her  hair, 
contrasting  with  the  lamplight,  as  if  she  had  caught 
a  phosphorescent  glow  from  the  great  wave  which 

1 60 


The  Sheltered  Side  of  Care 

flashed  and  fell  among  the  rocks  beyond  the  terrace 
and  the  pathway.  Before  its  foam  swept  out  her  eyes 
cleared,  and  she  saw  them  watching  her. 

"Oh,  there  you  are!"  she  cried.  "So  quiet  and 
still,  out  here  in  the  dark.  How  very  mousy  of 
you!" 

The  heads  of  the  family,  recovering  speech  upon  the 
instant,  made  room  for  her  beside  them,  and  asked 
for  an  account  of  the  evening's  adventures,  which  was 
given,  accordingly,  in  detail,  with  great  vivacity.  Su- 
zette  had  a  talent  for  distinguishing  the  comic  side  of 
things,  and  she  made  good  use  of  it  now  for  more 
than  half  an  hour,  after  which,  breaking  off  abruptly 
to  inquire  the  time  of  night,  with  bed-time  excuses 
and  embraces  she  went  as  lightly  as  she  came,  still, 
apparently,  in  high  spirits.  To  this  fact  the  doctor 
directed  his  wife's  notice  a  few  moments  later,  when 
they  likewise  had  come  in-doors,  and  he  had  begun 
his  nightly  round  of  inspection.  His  remarks  were 
punctuated  by  the  closing  and  locking  of  the  drawing- 
room  windows;  and  he  listened  to  himself  with  so 
much  satisfaction  that  he  had  passed  on  into  the 
library  before  he  perceived  that  the  talk  was  all  one 
sided,  without  a  responsive  echo.  Looking  back  he 
saw  his  wife  standing  silent  and  preoccupied,  gravely 
employed  in  the  study  of  her  fan,  which  seemed  to 
open  and  shut  by  its  own  devices  in  her  unconscious 
hands. 

161 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts!"  he  called.  "You 
are  not  hearing  one  word  of  all  I  say." 

Mrs.  Brinkley  started,  laughed  vacantly,  and,  coming 
to  herself,  bore  down  upon  him  in  the  glow  of  re 
covery. 

"Oh,  yes  indeed!"  she  protested.  "I  quite  agree 
with  you.  I  wonder  who  he  is." 

"Wake  up,  my  dear!"  said  the  doctor,  plucking 
her  by  the  sleeve.  "  It  is  of  Suzette  that  I  am  speak- 
ing." 

"  Suzette,  of  course,"  she  retorted,  indignantly.  "  I 
have  been  watching  her,  as  you  suggested.  There  is 
somebody  for  whom  she  cares.  I  am  positively  cer 
tain  of  it." 

"  What,  already?  An  hour  ago  you  thought  it  quite 
impossible." 

"  Well,  now  I  am  an  hour  older.  Pray  how 
much  time  need  a  woman  waste  in  changing  her 
mind?  Who  can  he  be?  It's  not  George  Har 
vey." 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders  helplessly. 
"  How  you  dash  at  things!  "  said  he.  "  As  if  it  were 
a  riddle  to  be  solved  by  guess-work!  I  give  you  my 
guess  for  what  it  is  worth.  Hammond  Long  is  the 
man.  She  is  more  than  an  hour  older  since  he  asked 
her,  and  - 

"Nonsense,  George;  it  is  not  Hammond  Long.  I 
know  that  by  the  way  she  speaks  of  him." 

162 


The  Sheltered  Side  of  Care 

"  Well,  that's  a  comfort,"  said  the  doctor,  with 
the  gleam  of  mischief  in  his  eye.  "  Throw  Long 
out.  We  might  proceed  to  the  survival  of  the  fittest 
by  a  process  of  elimination.  It  would  be  a  pretty 
game.  Let  us  begin  with —  What  is  it,  dear? 
Fits?" 

This  deflection  of  thought  was  caused  by  a  sharp 
cry  from  his  wife,  breaking  in  upon  his  speech  as  if 
something  had  attacked  her.  Incapable  of  utterance, 
she  answered  his  question  at  first  by  pointing  with  her 
fan  to  the  corner  of  the  library  directly  behind  him, 
where,  on  a  small  table  against  the  wall,  had  been  tem 
porarily  placed  the  portrait  of  Suzette,  in  which  the 
color  was  scarcely  dry. 

The  doctor  turned,  and,  like  Whittington,  turned 
again,  mystified. 

"Well?"  he  inquired. 

"The  painter,  George!"  replied  Mrs.  Brinkley,  in 
an  uneasy  whisper.  "  Where  were  our  wits?  I  think 
that  Mr.  Hemming  is  the  man." 

The  doctor  started,  and  changed  color.  "  Why  do 
you  think  that?"  he  asked,  gravely.  "She  never 
mentioned  his  name." 

"That's  just  it;  she  naturally  wouldn't.  His 
name  would  be  the  one  of  all  others  to  avoid.  But 
it  isn't  only  that.  I  remember  other  things, 
George." 

"It  can't  be!"  emphatically  asserted  the  doctor, 
163 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

putting  out  the  light.  "It  can't  be!"  he  repeated, 
bustling  away  into  the  hall.  His  tone  implied  that  it 
must  not  be,  and  Mrs.  Brinkley  so  interpreted  the 
words. 

"Why  can't  it?"  she  asked,  following  him  up. 
"  Surely  you  know  nothing  to  his  discredit,  do 
you  ?  " 

"Nothing,  nothing  whatsoever!"  he  answered, 
quickly.  "  I  referred  only  to  the  flaws  in  your  evi 
dence." 

Thereupon,  for  some  moments,  she  reproduced  from 
memory  straw  after  straw  to  show  the  wind's  quarter. 
But  he  refused  to  consider  such  trifling  indications. 
To  all  proofs  thus  advanced  he  offered  only  the  same 
three  words  by  way  of  refutation.  "  It  can't  be!  "  he 
muttered,  slowly  stroking  his  mustache  with  un 
wonted  seriousness.  And  there  was  no  further  attempt 
at  banter;  the  mischievous  light  had  faded  from  his 
eyes. 

That  his  argument  was  addressed  quite  as  much  to 
himself  as  to  her  seemed  plain  from  his  pursuit  of  it 
in  the  solitude  of  his  dressing-room;  but,  for  all  his 
assurance,  it  failed  to  bring  conviction.  "  And  if  it 
were?  "  he  thought,  at  last  admitting  the  unwelcome 
possibility.  "Why,  then,  the  devil's  in  it!  Hang 
Hemming!  What  is  there  in  the  chap  to  make  all 
the  women,  one  after  another,  go  mad  for  love  of 
him?" 

164 


The  Sheltered  Side  of  Care 

With  this  preposterous  and  sphinx-like  begging  of 
the  momentous  question  Dr.  Brinkley  extinguished 
his  last  light,  leaving  his  household  in  darkness  that 
was  Egyptian. 


165 


XIII 

WHERE    LIGHT    IN    DARKNESS    LIES 

FT  was  not  until  October  that  Hemming  began  life 
-*-  in  town  again, — unlike  the  snail,  with  no  house 
on  his  head.  For,  inclining  to  the  doctrine  that  a 
special  fortune  waits  upon  delay,  he  had  huddled  his 
furniture  and  studio  properties  into  a  storage  ware 
house  at  the  moment  of  his  departure,  with  the  pleasant 
hope  that  the  new  quarters  forced  upon  him  by  the 
march  of  up-town  improvement  would  stand  vacant 
somewhere  at  the  moment  of  his  return.  And  so, 
perhaps,  they  did;  but  in  several  days  of  search  he 
failed  to  discover  them.  Then  occurred  the  happy 
accident,  which  seemed  to  uphold  his  superstition  and 
confirmed  his  credulous  optimism.  The  nights  of  these 
tiresome,  homeless  days  were  passed  at  his  club;  and 
there,  late  in  one  of  them,  he  encountered  a  brother- 
painter  who  was,  literally,  on  the  eve  of  going  abroad, 
who,  upon  hearing  his  difficulties,  promptly  solved 
them  by  offering  the  use  of  his  own  studio  until  Hem 
ming  could  find  another,  or  for  the  winter,  at  a  fair 
price,  if  he  preferred.  Upon  this  benefactor  Hemming 
bestowed  the  favor  of  his  blessing;  and  together  they 

166 


Where  Light  in  Darkness  Lies 

drank  to  procrastination, — not  as  the  thief  of  time,  but 
rather  as  the  saviour  of  society. 

The  next  morning  Hemming  took  possession  of 
the  premises,  and,  finding  that  certain  of  his  own 
household  gods  were  indispensable,  he  repaired  in  the 
early  afternoon  to  their  place  of  storage.  It  was  a 
perfect  autumnal  day,  brilliant,  crisp,  refreshing, — 
one  of  the  rare  sort  in  which  the  pure  atmosphere 
seems  to  minimize  exertion,  and,  influencing  soul  as 
well  as  body,  to  make  one's  highest  ideal  a  shining 
probability.  Hemming,  as  he  walked,  grew  conscious 
of  the  unwonted  exhilaration.  "  It  is  a  day  to  move 
mountains!"  he  murmured.  But  so  keen  a  joy  is 
said  to  be  but  one  remove  from  pain,  and  in  his  case 
the  event  proved  it.  Looking  down  a  cross  street  he 
saw  the  gabled  roof  of  Gordon  Wise's  unfinished  house, 
like  a  gray  wall  of  cloud  athwart  his  clear  horizon. 

The  current  of  his  thought  changed  instantly;  he 
stopped,  turned  aside  toward  the  house  with  slackened 
pace,  as  if  the  cloud  had  overwhelmed  him ;  and,  upon 
reaching  a  favorable  point,  he  stood  still  to  inspect 
the  work  in  detail,  gravely,  with  contracted  brows. 
The  stagings  were  all  down,  and  the  monumental 
fagade  rose  complete,  even  to  the  last  carved  rosette 
of  its  cornice;  but  within  could  be  seen  mechanics  of 
various  kinds  engaged  upon  their  finishing  touches. 
They  reminded  him  of  his  own  prospective  share  in 
the  splendid  interior,  and  he  walked  on,  sighing. 

167 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

During  his  absence  he  had  struck  out  a  first  sketch 
of  the  frieze,  which  was  unsatisfactory.  He  found  no 
heart  for  the  work,  and  he  despaired  of  ever  finding 
it.  The  very  suggestion  of  endeavor  made  him  sigh 
again.  "  Ah,  well !  the  thing  can  wait,"  he  thought, 
evasively;  "there  is  no  hurry."  This  brought  him  at 
once  to  his  talk  with  Nina  on  the  cliff  concerning 
that  same  thing.  "  '  I  approve  the  scheme,  and  beg 
you  to  go  on  with  it,'  "  she  had  told  him,  as  he  now 
repeated,  word  for  word.  But  even  while  accepting 
her  statement  he  had  doubted  its  sincerity,  and  he 
doubted  still.  Really,  her  heart  was  no  more  in  that 
or  in  any  other  scheme  of  the  great  establishment  than 
his  own  was.  Yet  he  admired  her  the  more  for  her 
noble  effort  to  deceive.  Her  courage  and  her  reso 
lution  were  of  the  heroic  sort;  while  strength  lasted 
they,  too,  would  last.  But  how  long  would  that  be? 
The  thought  of  her  daily  life  in  the  next  few  years 
made  him  shudder.  Continuous  pretence,  continuous 
agony,  too  horrible  for  tragedy!  How  could  it  go 
on?  The  imagined  torment  haunted  him  as  though  it 
were  his  own.  Why  should  she  waste  her  days  in  such 
endurance?  Pshaw!  His  sympathy,  perhaps,  was  not 
merely  futile,  but  misplaced.  She  had  her  trials,  her 
compensations,  no  doubt ;  after  all,  she  lived  in  the  lap 
of  luxury,  where  rough  angles  were  made  smooth. 
And  all  happiness  in  this  world  must  be  relative,  of 
course.  Half  the  women  whom  he  knew  were  like 

168 


Where  Light  in  Darkness  Lies 

that,  as  he  dared  swear.  Only  one  thing  seemed  en 
tirely  clear.  The  conduct  of  her  life,  whether  it  led  to 
joy  or  sorrow,  was  no  affair  of  his. 

But  thought  of  her  would  not  be  shaken  off  so 
easily.  At  the  very  moment  of  this  peremptory  dis 
missal  a  brougham  passed  in  the  crowded  thorough 
fare  close  to  the  curb,  almost  brushing  him  by.  The 
woman  within  stirred,  and  greeted  him  with  a  smile 
of  recognition,  then  was  gone  in  a  flash.  She  was 
one  whom  he  knew  well  and  often  met  in  his  round 
of  worldly  intercourse — a  woman  of  wealth  and  posi 
tion,  who  chose  to  live  apart  from  her  husband  with 
out  the  formality  of  a  legal  separation.  This  adjust 
ment  of  their  differences,  mutually  agreed  upon,  had 
become  an  old  story;  there  being  no  undercurrent  of 
scandal  connected  with  it,  the  circumstance  was 
tacitly  accepted  as  an  accomplished  fact,  and  even  the 
accidental  encounter  of  the  two  in  some  crowded 
assemblage  caused  scarcely  a  remark.  That  matter 
was  settled, — to  the  world's  satisfaction,  at  all  events. 

In  the  waning  beauty  of  this  woman's  face  Hem 
ming  had  always  found  a  mute  appeal  for  sympathy. 
Its  habitual  restless  gayety,  its  rare  moments  of  wan 
repose  were  alike  profoundly  touching.  To-day,  how 
ever,  it  served  only  as  a  foil  for  the  younger  and  fairer 
face  of  Nina  Wise.  To  a  loneliness  like  that  her 
patience  and  fortitude  in  all  likelihood  were  tending. 
Where  else  could  they  tend,  if  her  affections  had  al- 

169 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

ready  drifted  from  her  husband's  course  as  far  as  he 
believed?  A  relation  so  strained  must  unquestionably 
give  way,  sooner  or  later,  on  one  side  or  the  other ;  it 
was  a  mistaken  sense  of  duty  that  led  her  to  prolong  a 
life  of  martyrdom  for  such  an  end.  Why  should  she 
prolong  it  by  another  hour?  There  were  laws  in  the 
land  framed  to  give  her  freedom ;  one  step,  and  she 
would  gain  it, — and  with  it  happiness ;  it  was  not  too 
late  for  that.  If  she  were  free!  If  she  were  free! 

The  fateful  powers  seemed  to  be  in  league  to  fix 
his  thought  and  hold  it;  he  resisted  them  no  longer, 
but  walked  encompassed  by  a  day-dream  of  her  future 
in  a  new  light,  surrendering  himself  to  its  golden  pos 
sibilities.  With  this  spell  upon  him,  inadvertently  he 
passed  the  cross  street  leading  to  his  destination,  and 
went  a  block  out  of  his  way  before  discovering  the  mis 
take.  Then,  brought  back  to  earth  with  a  round  turn, 
he  reproached  himself  for  the  imaginative  flight,  and, 
retracing  his  steps,  gave  his  attention  for  the  next  few 
minutes  to  actual  affairs. 

The  storage  warehouse  was  a  huge,  airy  building  of 
the  most  approved  constructive  pattern — all  brick, 
steel,  and  tile,  and  every  other  known  precaution 
against  fire.  From  its  wide  corridors  opened  to  right 
and  left  the  rented  rooms,  large  and  small,  some  re 
ceiving  daylight  from  an  inner  court,  others  window- 
less,  but  each  provided  with  its  own  lock  and  key,  an 
independent  domain  to  the  renter  for  the  time  being. 

170 


Where  Light  in  Darkness  Lies 

Hemming's  room  was  on  the  third  floor,  and,  passing 
through  the  office,  he  went  up  by  the  swift  elevator 
in  a  breathless  moment  to  his  proper  landing.  There, 
upon  identification,  he  was  shown  by  the  attendant  in 
charge  to  a  vaulted  cell  half-way  down  the  hall,  on  the 
dark  side.  The  man  opened  an  outer  door  and,  while 
Hemming  unlocked  the  inner  one,  turned  on  an  elec 
tric  light,  which  flashed  up  within;  then,  finding  that 
no  further  service  was  required,  he  returned  to  his 
post. 

Hemming,  left  to  himself,  eyed  for  a  moment  the 
dusty  heap  of  his  treasures,  which,  thus  shorn  of  their 
distinction,  looked  like  the  cast-off  lumber  of  an 
auction-room.  Before  proceeding  to  overhaul  them 
he  turned  to  close  the  door,  but  stopped  in  blank 
amazement,  staring  at  the  door  of  another  room  op 
posite  his  own  across  the  corridor.  While  he  looked  it 
swung  half-open  in  a  sudden  draught  of  air;  clear  day 
light  streamed  into  the  space  beyond  it,  and  there, 
confronting  him  like  an  embodiment  of  his  lost 
illusions,  he  saw  upon  an  easel  a  piece  of  his  own 
handiwork,  familiar  in  every  line,  yet  long  forgotten, 
— the  painting  of  "  Tithonus." 

More  than  half  doubting  the  evidence  of  his  eye 
sight,  much  too  startled  to  consider  consequences, 
Hemming  sprang  to  the  opposite  threshold.  The  door, 
opening  wider  as  if  to  admit  him,  was  caught  by  a 
countercurrent,  and  fell  back  heavily  at  his  very  heels. 

171 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

He  was  forced  to  take  a  forward  step  into  the  room, 
which  seemed  to  contain  only  the  picture.  He  saw, 
at  first,  nothing  else.  But  at  an  open  window  in 
the  right-hand  wall  was  a  woman  with  her  back 
toward  him.  She  turned  quickly  at  the  sound  of 
the  jarring  door.  He  stood  face  to  face  with  Nina 
Wise. 

She  drew  back  trembling,  with  flushed  cheeks,  and 
in  her  eyes  a  look  of  terror,  as  though  his  presence 
were  unreal.  "  You !  "  she  faltered,  and  shrank  still 
farther  from  him. 

"Forgive  me!"  he  stammered,  incoherently.  "I 
was  there,  by  chance, — a  strange  one.  The  door 
opened;  I  saw  this.  I  could  not  believe, — I —  and  here, 
— to  find  you — 

She  was  deadly  pale  now,  but  had  recovered  in  some 
degree  her  self-command.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  with  a 
faint  smile;  "it  is  mine.  I  bought  it  long  ago." 

"  Through  Dr.  Brinkley  !  "  he  continued,  in  the  same 
tremor  of  excitement.  "  Why,  then,  to  you  I  owe 
everything, — all  I  have  accomplished,  my  very  exist 
ence  even.  The  means  of  life  date  from  that  poor 
beginning.  And  I  never  guessed, — you  never  told 
me." 

"  No,"  she  answered,  like  one  who  speaks  in  sleep, 
"  I  never  told  you." 

"And  you  have  kept  the  secret  hidden  here, — for 
years." 

172 


Where  Light  in  Darkness  Lies 

"  For  years!  "  she  repeated,  in  the  same  low  voice, 
as  if  unconsciously. 

"  If  I  had  known!  "  he  sighed.  "  That  night,  when 
you  came  back  to  me  for  the  last  word,  I  had  lost 
my  senses.  My  heart's  desire  was  granted,  and  I  could 
not  see  the  folly  of  it.  I  saw  that  afterward, — too 
late!  I  have  been  blind,  sordid,  brutal.  I  sold  the 
only  life  worth  living  for  a  mess  of  pottage.  And  all 
your  sorrow  of  these  years  is  due  to  me." 

The  word  aroused  her  from  her  strange  remoteness. 
Her  eyes  flashed  upon  him  an  appealing  look,  that 
was  at  once  withdrawn.  "  My  sorrow !  "  she  said,  help 
lessly.  "My  sorrow?" 

"  You  will  not  deny  it  now,"  he  insisted,  with  head 
long  recklessness  of  speech  hurrying  desperately  on. 
"  You  cannot.  Why  disguise  it  longer?  Let  us  speak 
out,  at  last!  Do  you  think  me  so  dull  as  not  to  see 
and  understand  the  wretchedness  of  your  life?  You 
are  miserably  unhappy,  and  you  cannot  hide  it  longer 
from  me, — me,  of  all  men  alive.  You  could  not  hide 
it,  if  you  would  !  For  I  love  you, — I  love  you !  " 

"  Stop!  "  she  cried,  sinking  down  and  covering  her 
face  with  both  hands.  "  You  are  mad.  What  right 
have  you  to  tell  me  this?  " 

"No  right, — none!  Yet  I  must  speak,  and  you 
must  hear  me.  A  great  wrong  has  been  done,  and  it 
is  not  too  late  to  repair  it.  Nina,  listen;  nothing  else 
matters, — nothing  in  all  the  world.  To  be  honest  with 

173 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

each  other,  that  is  the  only  way.  Your  own  heart 
justifies  it.  Your  love  for  me  gives  me  the  right  to 
tell  you  so." 

"No!  no!"  she  moaned,  drooping  lower  in  the 
deepest  anguish.  "  It  is  cowardly  to  say  such 
things." 

"  I  have  the  courage  to  face  the  truth,"  he  said, 
more  gently,  drawing  nearer  and  bending  over  her. 
"  I  have  felt  that  this  was  inevitable.  I  have  struggled 
with  it,  fought  against  it,  but  such  a  force  is  not  to 
be  controlled.  My  love  for  you  went  with  me  every 
where.  And  you  have  seen,  have  known.  There  was 
a  meaning  in  your  silence.  But  now  the  time  has 
come  to  break  it  fearlessly,  to  free  ourselves  from  the 
false  position,  to  bring  the  trial  to  an  end.  Nina! 
Look  up!  Be  brave,  be  honest!  You  must  deal  fairly 
with  me." 

He  had  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  but,  resisting 
his  touch,  she  sprang  to  her  feet  unaided. 

"  This  is  horrible,"  she  said,  striving  to  be  calm. 
"  I  have  brought  it  upon  myself,  I  have  been  much 
to  blame — how  much  I  hardly  knew  until  you  spoke 
the  accusing  word.  There  was  a  meaning  in  my 
silence, — a  fearful  meaning  which  has  forced  me,  in 
self-reproach,  to  hear  you  out — you,  my  husband's 
friend." 

Her  voice  had  gained  strength,  and  there  came  into 
it  a  warning  note  of  bitterness  from  which,  instinct- 

174 


Where  Light  in  Darkness  Lies 

ively,  he  recoiled.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  only  wavered, 
confused  and  silent,  fumbling  for  the  right  word. 

"  You  see,  it  is  not  so  easy  to  deal  fairly,"  she 
resumed,  in  the  same  tone.  "  Oh,  I  do  not  blame 
you;  I  blame  myself.  It  was  I  who  seemed  to  lead 
you  on — who  led  you — for  I  will  deny  nothing.  I  will 
be  honest,  as  you  say,  even  if  I  was  not  brave  enough 
to  silence  you.  Let  me  confess  so  much,  to  my  ever 
lasting  shame.  I  led  you,  yes,  to  say  what,  surely, 
you  would  not  have  said  one  moment  later." 

"  But  for  this,  you  mean,"  he  said,  turning  gloomily 
toward  the  picture.  ;'  The  moment,  it  is  true,  was 
accidental.  Yet  the  impulse  and  the  will  were  strong 
within  me — the  need  to  speak.  Sooner  or  later,  even 
without  the  accident  of  this  discovery,  I  must  have 
spoken." 

"No;  you  would  have  understood.  I  should  have 
made  you  understand,  without  a  word,  with  silence 
of  another  sort.  You  would  not  have  spoken  then. 
But  all  that  is  changed,  and  all,  perhaps,  is  better  as 
it  is.  Who  knows?  I  might  have  doubted  still,  have 
lost  my  courage,  have  failed  again  in  thought  and 
deed.  Now,  the  dreadful  moment  that  I  feared  has 
passed,  and  I  am  strengthened  in  my  resolution. 
Nothing  can  shake  it  now.  If  I  loved  you — 

Once  more  her  voice  trembled;  she  hesitated, 
stopped,  while  he  caught  up  the  speech  sharply  where 
she  left  it.  "  If  you  loved  me, — well,  go  on!  If  you 

175 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

loved  me, — "  he  repeated,  "as  you  did  once — a  year, 
a  week,  an  hour  ago!  You,  yourself,  admit  it." 

"  If  I  loved  you  still  I  would  never  have  admitted 
it — at  least  to  you."  And  now  her  voice,  though  low, 
was  singularly  strong  and  clear.  "  Never!  To  be 
weighed  and  found  wanting,  to  defy  all  responsibility 
and  duty  would  bring  no  happiness.  There  may  be 
women  in  the  world  like  that,  there  may  be  men  who 
love  them, — but  not  in  any  world  I  know.  What  man 
ner  of  woman  have  I  become  that  you  should  think 
so  poorly  of  me  ?  " 

"A  strange  one!"  he  muttered,  angrily.  "No! 
Women  the  world  over  are  alike — capricious,  illogical, 
unreasoning!  Love!  Duty! — is  it  one  or  the  other, 
or  both  at  once,  to  go  on  living  as  we  are?  I  will 
tell  you  what  it  is;  a  wrong  to  me,  a  greater  wrong 
to— to  him." 

"  I  love  him,"  she  protested.  "  The  wrong,  now,  is 
in  your  words." 

"Words!"  he  cried.  "What  are  they?  I  am  half 
mad.  I  cannot  put  two  words  together.  I  trust  neither 
mine  nor  yours.  I  trust  only  those  dictates  of  the 
heart  and  soul,  of  the  love  not  to  be  expressed,  to 
which,  in  spite  of  all  you  say,  we  two  have  yielded. 
I  believe  nothing  but  that,  and  the  proof,  stronger 
than  any  words,  is  here." 

He  laid  his  hand  heavily  upon  the  picture-frame  so 
violently  that  the  easel  shook  and  threatened  to  fall. 

176 


Where  Light  in  Darkness  Lies 

As  he  righted  it  something  slipped  from  its  narrow 
shelf,  and  clattered  to  the  floor.  Mechanically  he 
stooped  to  pick  up  the  object,  which,  with  some  sur 
prise,  he  turned  over  and  over  in  his  hands.  It  was  a 
clasp-knife,  with  the  blade  open. 

"  I  love  him,"  she  repeated,  quietly.  "  Words  are 
nothing.  But  you  will  trust  mine  now,  with  the  proof, 
stronger  than  words,  in  your  own  hand." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked.     "This  knife?" 

"  I  brought  it  to  end  this  saddest  of  sad  matters, 
once  for  all.  The  way  was  clear  before  me.  I  had 
conquered  my  weaker  self,  I  had  overcome  evil  with 
good,  had  escaped  the  snare,  the  strong  delusion.  Only 
the  symbol  of  them  both,  the  wretched  symbol,  was 
left  here — a  hideous  remembrance!  I  came  here  to 
destroy  it." 

"  I  see.  A  hideous  remembrance!  In  another  mo 
ment  you  would  have  cut  it  from  the  frame.  Is  that 
the  truth?" 

"  Yes.  I  am  out  of  bondage.  You  may  recall  the 
past;  you  can  never  bring  it  back.  You  came  too 
late." 

"  And  it  is  a  hideous  remembrance, — that  is  all." 

He  looked  at  her  for  an  instant  with  dim,  reproach 
ful  eyes  that  entreated  her  to  cancel  the  phrase  he 
dwelt  upon.  But  her  eyes  did  not  flinch.  There  was 
in  them  only  calm  negation.  Then  he  turned,  and, 
with  a  few  swift  strokes  of  the  knife,  cut  the  picture 

1/7 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

into  strips,  tearing  them  out  and  throwing  them 
down. 

"  Strange  tricks  memory  plays  us!  "  he  murmured, 
more  to  himself  than  to  her.  "  I  said  once  that  I 
should  long,  some  day,  to  do  this  very  thing.  Why 
should  I  remember  that?  Given  the  why  and  where 
fore,  it  was  done  so  easily."  She  did  not  seem 
to  hear  him,  but  stood  staring  at  the  heap  of  ruined 
canvas.  He  tossed  the  knife  into  it,  with  a  laugh. 
Then,  in  another  tone,  addressing  her  directly:  "I 
have  destroyed  your  property,"  he  said,  "  yet  some 
trouble,  at  least,  has  been  spared  you, — some  small 
difficulty.  You  would  hardly  have  done  that  yourself 
before  my  face  and  eyes.  Considering  the  why  and 
wherefore,  you  will  forgive  me." 

"  You  will  never  forgive  me,"  she  answered,  sadly. 
"  I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

"  M ein  Lieb,  zvir  sollen  Beide  elend  sein ! "  he  re 
turned,  moving  toward  the  door.  "  Do  you  remember 
Stahlberg's  song  to  Heine's  words?  Gordon  did  well 
to  set  them.  It  is  written  that  we  shall  both  be 
most  unhappy.  Both?  All  three!  No  matter;  let 
us  leave  out  the  personality,  and  call  it  misfortune, 
fate,  circumstance, — what  you  please.  Like  Job,  we 
will  curse  our  day, — not  each  other." 

"  Job  lived  to  repent,"  she  said,  tremulously,  "in 
dust  and  ashes." 

"  That  is  a  fine  prospect,"  he  retorted.  "  Well,  we 
178 


Where  Light  in  Darkness   Lies 

must  accept  the  decree  of  destiny.  To  dust  and  ashes 
we  commit  ourselves." 

He  had  opened  the  door,  but  hesitated,  and  once 
more  turned  toward  her.  She  would  not  meet  his 
look,  but,  conscious  of  the  movement,  shrank  from  it 
and  him  unconsciously,  with  downcast  eyes. 

"  And  yet  one  word  would  change  it,"  he  said,  after 
a  moment's  waiting;  "one  word!"  But  now  she 
turned  from  him  in  silence,  and  he  contested  no  more 
his  lost  cause.  "  You  will  not  speak.  Dust  and  ashes, 
then!" 

The  door  closed  behind  him.  She  stood  motion 
less  where  he  had  left  her,  until  the  sound  of  his  foot 
steps  had  died  away.  Then,  when  the  need  of  self- 
control  had  passed,  a  sharp  reaction  followed  it,  and, 
sobbing  hysterically,  she  found  relief  at  last  in  over 
whelming  tears. 


179 


XIV 

CERTAINTIES    UNFORESEEN 

r  I"* HE  short  November  days  were  not  half  long 
-*-  enough  for  Gordon  Wise.  His  burden  of  cares 
seemed  to  wax  heavy  with  the  waning  year,  and,  turn 
or  twist  as  he  might,  he  could  not  lighten  its  fatal  load. 
There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  in  his  mind  that  the 
cloud  in  the  Northwest  had  increased  and  darkened. 
Grass  grew  in  the  wide,  outlying  avenues  of  Nokomis  ; 
even  Anthony  Stanwood,  himself,  reluctantly  admitted 
that  its  affairs  had  not  rallied  with  triumphant  swift 
ness  into  normal  conditions.  Something  retarded  the 
pendulum  in  its  backward  course.  After  months  of 
costly  effort  the  "  only  true,  natural  "  Northwestern 
port  remained  where  the  fire  left  it,  actually  at  a 
standstill.  But  no  process  of  reasoning  would  force 
its  chief  promoter  to  admit  for  a  single  instant  what 
Gordon  at  first  vaguely  feared  and  then  perceived  too 
surely, — the  fact,  namely,  that  the  loss  to  Nokomis  had 
resulted  in  Wenonalrs  gain.  It  was  one  of  the  old 
schemer's  favorite  maxims  that  facts  and  figures  would 
not  lie ;  yet  when  his  son-in-law  anxiously  directed  his 
attention  to  some  bulletin  of  statistics  issued  by  the 
rival  community,  he  treated  it  derisively,  as  so  much 

1 80 


Certainties  Unforeseen 

ingenious  advertising.  Bullifant,  the  infallible,  knew 
better  than  that.  Let  Gordon  read  over  again  the  Big 
Injun's  last  letter,  and  he  would  be  convinced  by  its 
evidence  that  Wenonah  and  Nokomis  were  really  in  the 
same  boat,  caught  for  the  moment  in  the  same  eddy  of 
the  sluggish  current.  It  was  low  water  everywhere. 
There  had  been  over-expansion,  over-confidence  on  all 
sides.  A  reaction  had  set  in,  and  they  were  feeling  its 
effects.  The  country  now  grew  over-cautious.  Busi 
ness  was  dull,  money  was  tight;  no  one  had  the  spirit 
to  engage  in  anything,  even  though  saints  and  angels 
guaranteed  it.  If  Wenonah  declared  the  contrary,  she 
told  a  hellish  lie.  Nokomis,  well  in  the  van,  could  af 
ford  to  wait,  to  lie  low.  The  moment  the  tide  turned 
she  would  go  her  way  rejoicing,  on  the  crest  of  the 
wave.  Meanwhile,  the  trouble  must  be  accepted  as 
national,  not  local.  All  must  stand  still  and  take  it. 
The  times  were  hard. 

No  matter  to  what  high-soaring  metaphors  his 
speech  ascended  in  the  heat  of  argument,  it  always  in 
the  end  came  back  to  that:  the  times  were  hard.  But 
when  Gordon  hinted  that  they  might  be  harder  yet, 
might  even  be  the  hardest  ever  known,  he  would  not 
listen.  Nor  would  he  hear  of  any  change  or  delay  in 
completing  the  new  establishment,  the  splendors  of 
which  blazoned  to  the  world  his  own  inexhaustible  re 
sources.  No!  The  furniture,  the  appointments,  and 
the  entire  outfit  must  be  put  through,  precisely  as 

181 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

planned ;  and  the  sooner  Gordon  and  Nina  moved  in  the 
better.  Any  other  course  would  be  a  ridiculous  admis 
sion  of  weakness.  No  miserable  tabby  cat  should  have 
the  ghost  of  a  chance  to  shake  her  head  and  say  that 
Anthony  Stanwood  could  not  stand  a  little  squeezing. 

Gordon,  even  while  dreading  the  storm,  secretly  be 
lieved  in  the  old  man's  power  to  weather  it,  whatever 
its  extent  might  be.  Still  too  near  this  high-handed 
arrogance  for  impartial  judgment,  still  too  ready  to 
follow  where  inclination  prompted,  he  obeyed  orders 
cheerfully,  and  urged  on  the  work, — all  the  more  vigo 
rously  for  his  wife's  new  sympathy  with  it.  Either 
from  a  sense  of  duty  or  of  returning  health,  of  from  a 
combination  of  the  two,  as  he  conjectured,  Nina's  whole 
attitude  toward  the  house  and  its  equipment  had  sud 
denly  changed.  The  old  indifference  was  gone.  She 
now  seemed  anxious  to  demonstrate,  by  every  possible 
means,  her  active  interest  in  details  which  formerly 
had  only  perplexed  and  annoyed  her.  After  their  re 
turn  to  town  this  interest  steadily  increased.  She  con 
sulted  the  mechanics  and  directed  them,  engaging  in 
personal  supervision  of  a  sort  that  heretofore  would 
have  overtaxed  her  strength.  Gordon,  surprised  at 
first,  soon  yielded  to  the  pleasant  influence,  seeking 
suggestion  and  submitting  to  it,  flattered  by  her  un 
mistakable  eagerness  to  promote  his  favorite  schemes. 
It  was  she  who  reported  progress  in  them  now,  while 
he  listened  and  approved  at  the  end  of  each  day's  work, 

182 


Certainties  Unforeseen 

each  day  entrusting  more  of  it  to  her.  Thus  the  order 
of  their  lives  became  reversed,  in  a  way  that  would  have 
seemed  to  Gordon  little  short  of  miraculous  had  he 
taken  more  time  to  reflect  upon  it.  As  it  was,  he  ac 
cepted  the  situation  gratefully,  happy,  amid  grave  anx 
ieties,  in  the  thought  that  Nina  cared,  without  ques 
tioning  the  thought.  Since  he  had  never  been  in  the 
habit  of  discussing  business  matters  at  home,  Nina, 
while  noting  his  preoccupation,  attached  no  especial 
significance  to  that.  It  was  a  busy  time  everywhere; 
he  was  busy  down-town ;  and  she,  on  her  side,  merely 
worked  the  harder,  tip-town,  in  consequence. 

So  stood  their  house  affairs  ten  days  before  the  time 
fixed  for  occupying  the  new  premises,  of  which  they 
were  to  take  possession  on  the  last  day  of  the  month, 
all  forces  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  Such 
dilatory  mechanics  as  then  remained  must  be  dispersed 
or  driven  into  closer  quarters ;  otherwise,  as  Gordon 
declared,  the  delay  would  never  end.  He  had  resolved 
to  take  an  active  part,  himself,  in  these  final  proceed 
ings,  for  an  hour  or  two,  at  least,  of  each  day,  setting 
other  business  aside  desperately  and  defiantly ;  but 
even  this  partial  suspension  of  routine  was  denied 
him.  For  Anthony  Stanwood  suddenly  fell  ill,  and, 
reluctantly  taking  to  his  bed,  left  Gordon  to  battle  with 
the  warring  elements  alone.  He  could  not  absent  him 
self  during  the  day,  as  he  had  hoped  to  do ;  and  even 
the  night  was  encroached  upon  by  visits  to  the  sick 

183 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

man's  bedside.  There,  reporting  minutely  all  current 
events  of  street  and  market,  it  delighted  him  on  sev 
eral  occasions  to  find  the  invalid  in  an  aggressive  mood, 
propped  up  by  pillows,  with  the  evening  papers  spread 
out  before  him,  chafing  under  restraint,  profanely  san 
guine  still. 

But  on  the  evening  of  the  twenty-fourth,  when  he 
came  in  after  an  uneasy  day,  all  this  had  changed.  The 
nurse  met  him  at  the  door  with  a  caution  to  make  his 
visit  short.  And  no  warning  was  really  needed.  The 
newspapers  were  unopened ;  and  the  redoubtable  head 
of  the  house  lay  weak  and  listless,  concerning  himself 
neither  with  friend  nor  foe,  indifferent  even  to  his  own 
discomfort.  All  Gordon's  fears  for  the  morrow  were 
left  unspoken.  He  could  only  await  silently  the  coming 
of  the  doctor,  who,  however,  found  no  especial  cause 
for  anxiety  in  this  new  phase  of  the  case.  It  would 
pass, — perhaps,  before  morning ;  the  patient  was  by  no 
means  at  death's  door.  Mrs.  Wise  should  not  be 
alarmed  unduly.  She  need  not  know. 

So  Gordon,  disguising  this  new  apprehension,  indeed 
dismissing  it,  went  home  to  bed,  where  he  lay  awake 
all  night,  haunted  by  forebodings  of  disaster.  That 
day's  trials  were  unmatched  in  his  experience.  There 
had  been  many  failures,  rumors  of  more  to  follow,  pre 
dictions  of  general  panic.  What  would  the  next  day 
bring  forth?  He  dreaded  to  see  its  light.  If  he  could 
only  close  his  eyes,  and  open  them  again  a  week  hence ! 

184 


Certainties   Unforeseen 

It  was  impossible  that  the  strain  should  last  so  long. 
Would  it  were  next  week,  and  all  well  over ! 

Yet  when  light  came  he  welcomed  it.  Action,  after 
all,  was  better  than  suspension  of  the  power  to  act.  He 
faced  the  day  almost  with  joy,  in  high  spirits,  which  a 
favorable  word  of  Mr.  Stanwood's  condition  seemed 
to  warrant.  Since  all  went  well  with  him,  why  might 
not  the  vague  terrors  of  the  dark  as  well  prove  un 
warrantable?  Perhaps  there  was  an  error  in  the  cal 
endar,  and  by  occult  processes  they  had  arrived  at  next 
week  already,  beyond  the  reach  of  danger.  The 
thought  made  him  smile,  and  the  smile  deceived  his 
wife,  who  had  observed  the  heaviness  in  his  eyes,  but 
now  forbore  to  speak  of  it.  In  parting  from  him,  Nina 
had  not  the  faintest  suspicion  that  he  went  out  to  meet 
unusual  cares.  She  was  no  interpreter  of  signs  or 
portents ;  to  her  all  business  was  painfully  mysterious, 
if  not  inscrutable. 

As  he  plunged  into  the  day's  affairs  it  seemed  to  Gor 
don  Wise  that  the  powers  of  mischief  had  gathered 
strength  through  the  night's  interval.  There  was  no 
more  smiling  now.  He  knew  that  the  strained  look  in 
every  face  must  be  reflected  in  his  own.  The  letters 
gave  him  little  encouragement;  and  from  the  North 
west  came  no  word.  Ominous  silence !  Then,  at  its 
appointed  hour,  the  market  opened  wildly.  Stocks 
dropped  out  of  sight.  The  recording  tape  coiled  up 
impossible  rumors  of  rack  and  ruin,  only  to  confirm 

185 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

them.  Strong  men  lost  their  heads.  Amid  deplorable 
scenes  of  consternation  the  threatened  panic  had  begun. 

Gordon,  beside  himself,  could  hardly  determine 
which  way  to  turn.  But  there  were  obligations  to 
meet,  and  in  the  Winnipeg  King's  absence  counsel 
must  be  taken  with  his  loyal  liegemen,  the  bankers, 
Harvey,  Long  &  Co.  To  them,  therefore,  Gordon 
would  have  turned ;  and  was  even  on  his  way  to  them 
when  he  encountered  news  that  chilled  him  to  the  bone. 
Harvey,  Long  &  Co.,  borne  down  with  the  rest,  had 
suspended  payment.  The  shock  was  like  some  con 
vulsion  of  nature,  beyond  man's  power  to  control.  En 
tirely  disheartened,  he  went  back  to  his  post.  Nothing 
mattered  much,  since  the  worst  blow  had  fallen.  But 
he  had  used  the  superlative  too  hastily.  A  moment 
later  came  a  telegraphic  message.  He  tore  it  open. 
From  Nokomis !  Word  of  the  Northwest,  at  last, — 
such  a  word,  deadly  in  its  directness !  "  Bullifant  left 
town  last  night  with  all  funds  available.  His  where 
abouts  unknown."  The  paper  slipped  from  Gordon's 
trembling  hand.  He  closed  the  door  of  his  inner  room 
to  shut  out  the  world,  and,  dropping  into  a  chair,  cov 
ered  his  face.  This,  then,  was  the  worst.  What  more 
could  happen  ?  Let  time  stand  still ! 

The  tape  clicked  on,  twisting  and  writhing  in  a  white 
tangle  upon  the  floor.  How  long  Gordon  sat  thus  alone 
with  it  he  never  knew.  After  five  minutes,  or  ten,  or 
fifty,  to  his  dismay,  the  great  first  cause,  flushed  with 

1 86 


Certainties   Unforeseen 

excitement,  Anthony  Stanwood  himself,  carrying  an 
armful  of  papers,  burst  into  the  room.  The  interrup 
tion  roused  him  as  nothing  else  could  have  done.  He 
sprang  up  with  but  one  thought, — the  risk  to  the  in 
valid  of  this  ill-timed  exposure  and  fatigue. 

"  You  ought  not  to  be  here,"  he  said,  gently.  "  Why 
did  you  come?  You  are  not  well  enough."  And  he 
laid  his  hand  in  mild  reproach  upon  the  sick  man's  arm. 

But  the  King  shook  himself  free,  impatiently.  "  I'm 
as  well  as  you  are.  That's  all  right !  Open  the  inner 
safe, — here's  the  key.  It's  a  great  day  for  us,  my  boy ! 
A  great  day, — a  great  day !  "  And  tossing  his  burden 
down,  he  paced  the  room,  muttering  the  phrase  over 
and  over. 

Gordon  stared  in  amazement.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  haven't  heard.  Harvey, 
Long  &  Co. — they  have  failed,  and — 

A  storm  of  profanity  cut  short  his  speech.  "  The  in 
fernal  asses  !  They've  lost  their  heads  !  "  went  on  the 
old  man,  wildly.  "  Do  as  I  tell  you,  and  trust  to  me." 

"  But  that's  not  all,"  insisted  Gordon,  hopelessly  per 
plexed.  "  Bullifant !  "  and  he  caught  up  the  telegram 
just  received.  "  Look !  Bullifant  has  gone — has  left 
us  in  the  lurch — 

"  To  hell  with  Bullifant !  "  cried  Mr.  Stanwood,  tear 
ing  the  message  into  bits.  "  Be  quick,  can't  you  !  Open 
the  safe,  get  out  those  things ;  it's  a  great  day  for  us. 
You'll  see !  you'll  see !  "  His  words  trailed  off  inco- 

187 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

herently.  He  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and  spread  his 
mass  of  papers  out  before  him  upon  the  table ;  then, 
taking  up  a  pen,  he  began  with  inaudible  comments  to 
jot  down  notes  and  figures. 

Gordon,  meanwhile,  still  failing  to  understand,  with 
the  habit  of  blind  obedience  fastened  upon  him,  turned 
to  the  safe  and  hurriedly  unlocked  its  inner  door. 
What  priceless  treasure  lay  behind  it,  he  wondered. 
Alas !  he  found  there  neither  the  philosopher's  stone 
nor  the  elixir  of  long  life,  but  only  a  few  tracings  of 
Nokomis,  the  ill-starred  city, — outlined  previsions  of 
its  golden  future,  which,  until  the  phoenix  should  be  re 
generated,  were  useless  rubbish.  What  did  it  mean? 
Suddenly  the  meaning  dawned  upon  him  in  all  its  grim- 
ness.  Yet,  with  faltering  hope,  he  doubted  a  moment 
longer. 

"  Are  these  the  things  you  want  ?  "  he  asked,  turning 
back  to  the  table,  over  which  the  Winnipeg  King,  bent 
low,  scratched  and  mumbled  among  his  papers,  ab 
sorbed  in  futile  calculation. 

The  old  man  clutched  the  tracings  eagerly,  and  un 
rolled  them.  "  Yes— yes,"  he  declared.  "  See !  That's 
the  west  side.  Every  lot  there  is  mine, — mine,  all 
mine.  I'm  going  to  put  'em  on  the  market  at  twenty 
dollars  a  foot.  Twenty?  Fifty  they  ought  to  bring! 
Just  let  me  turn  it  into  black  and  white.  I'll  figure  it 
out  for  you  !  " 

It  was  true,  then,  beyond  all  doubt.  The  iron  will  re- 
188 


Certainties   Unforeseen 

coiled  upon  itself  at  last.     Mr.  Stanwood's  mind  had 
failed  him. 

Gordon  touched  the  overburdened  shoulders  with  a 
gentle  pressure.  "  Not  now !  "  he  said,  quietly ;  "  all 
that  can  wait.  We  are  tired  out, — both  of  us.  Let  us 
go  home  and  rest." 

"  Rest?  "  Mr.  Stanwood  objected.  "  You  can  rest, 
if  you've  a  mind  to.  I've  got  to  work,  that's  what  I'm 
here  for.  There's  three  millions  of  dollars  waiting  for 
a  turn  of  my  hand, — yes,  double  that !  I'll  have  'em,  if 
it  takes  all  day.  Don't  talk  to  me !  "  And  he  plunged 
back  into  his  vast  problem,  as  if  an  instant's  delay 
would  prove  fatal  to  it. 

Gordon's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  left  the  financier 
to  his  delusion,  and  strode  up  and  down,  striving  for 
an  effective  word  that  should  collect  the  scattered 
senses,  which  maundered  on,  forgetful  of  his  presence. 
Then  someone  knocked  softly ;  and  he  found  in  the 
outer  room  Mr.  Stanwood's  nurse.  The  man  explained 
that  the  patient,  appearing  much  stronger  that  morn 
ing,  had  dressed  himself,  rationally  enough ;  but,  after 
ward,  had  cunningly  contrived  to  slip  down-stairs  and 
out  of  the  house.  To  bring  him  back  quietly  would, 
no  doubt,  be  a  simple  matter,  if  he  were  humored  a 
little.  Not  to  alarm  him  was  the  important  thing. 

Thus  instructed,  Gordon  went  in  alone  for  another 
attempt. 

"  How  do  you  get  on?  "  he  inquired,  cheerily. 
189 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

Old  Anthony  looked  up  and  winked.  "  Oh,  we're 
in  fine  shape !  "  he  chuckled.  "  We're  a-going  to  down 
Wenonah  devilish  quick,  and  have  big  money  to  burn. 
It's  hot  stuff — hot  stuff,  my  boy!  By  the  old  Harry, 
though,  it's  hot  work,  too !  Open  the  windows,  can't 
you?  and  let  in  the  Lord's  fresh  air." 

"  Better  than  that !  We'll  go  out  into  it,"  said  Gor 
don,  with  the  same  counterfeited  lightness  of  manner. 
"  It's  luncheon  time.  But  I  want  to  see  the  figures. 
Bring  them  along ;  we'll  talk  them  over !  There's  a 
carriage  at  the  door." 

"  Good  enough !  "  assented  Mr.  Stanwood,  follow 
ing  the  lead  instantly.  "  I'm  with  you !  "  and,  rising, 
he  began  to  stuff  the  papers  into  his  pockets.  "  Where's 
old  Bullifant?  He  must  come,  too !  " 

"  Yes,  yes.    We'll  find  him.    Come !  " 

Mr.  Stanwood  laughed  loud  and  long.  "  I  just  want 
to  see  the  Big  Injun's  face  when  he  hears  me  talk. 
That's  all !  "  So,  in  fine  spirits,  making  no  resistance, 
he  came  out  with  Gordon  to  the  carriage.  The  nurse 
mounted  the  box ;  and  thus,  without  more  ado,  they 
drove  the  poor,  wandering  power  that  was  to  his  home. 
Once  there,  he  showed  no  surprise,  and  remained  indif 
ferent  to  all  that  went  on  around  him,  demanding  only 
pencil  and  paper.  Occupied  with  these,  he  passed  grad 
ually  from  apathy  to  drowsiness,  and  finally  sank  to 
sleep  in  the  darkened  chamber.  Beyond  it,  the  tide  of 
affairs  which  he  had  so  long  controlled  swept  madly 

190 


Certainties  Unforeseen 

on  toward  dissolution ;  but  to  a  happy  unconsciousness 
of  this  extremity  charitable  fate  had  now  consigned 
him ;  all  active  part  in  the  worldly  influences  of  good 
or  evil  for  him  was  over. 

Gordon  Wise,  meanwhile,  turned  back  despairingly 
into  the  glare  of  day.  The  carriage  had  waited  at  the 
door;  and,  stepping  into  it,  he  reflected  bitterly  that 
this  must  be  the  last  of  such  luxuries  for  him.  Yet  no 
man  counts  cost  at  the  first  rush  of  falling  fortunes. 
And  what  was  a  dollar  more  or  less  in  all  this  grievous 
increment  of  ruin  ?  He  had  work  to  do,  he  must  save 
his  strength  and  get  over  the  ground.  There  was  Nina, 
first  of  all,  still  ignorant  of  their  accumulated  disasters ; 
he  must  see  her  at  once,  and  break  each  item  of  the 
dreadful  news  to  her  as  gently  as  he  could.  All  his 
thought  centred  now  in  her  as  he  whirled  on  to  his 
own  house.  How  will  she  bear  it?  he  wondered;  and 
answered  the  question,  himself,  with  one  word :  bravely. 

But  Nina  was  not  at  home.  One  of  the  servants, 
who  stood  at  the  door  despatching  a  load  of  furniture, 
thought  that  Mrs.  Wise  might  be  found  at  the  new 
house,  where  these  things  were  to  go.  Thither,  accord 
ingly,  Gordon  proceeded,  stirred  by  this  simple  domes 
tic  incident  into  fresh  anguish.  The  new  house !  The 
new  house  that  never  could  be  old !  To-day  they  were 
moving  into  it ;  to-morrow  it  would  be  out  of  their  pos 
session. 

There  she  was,  in  the  great  drawing-room  of  what 
191 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

Paul  Hemming  had  sportively  called  the  piano  nobile, — 
and,  mercifully,  she  was  alone.  Beside  her  lay  a  pile 
of  costly  stuffs,  to  be  used  as  hangings,  brought  there 
for  her  consideration.  One  of  these — a  splendid  white- 
and-gold  brocade — had  been  drawn  apart  from  the  rest ; 
and  she  stood  before  it,  studying  the  effect.  Recogniz 
ing  Gordon's  step,  she  turned  with  a  look  of  pleased 
surprise,  which  changed  quickly  to  one  of  alarm. 

"  Nina !  "  he  began, — and  felt,  before  another  word 
was  spoken,  her  instinctive  knowledge.  "  Nina,  there 
is  something  that  I  must  tell  you — something  that  will 
be  hard  to  bear,  but  we  must  bear  it  together ;  it  is  bad 
news." 

"  You  are  ill  ?  What  is  it,  Gordon  ?  My  father  ?  He 
is  dead !  " 

"  No,  no !  it  is  not  that.  He  is  ill,  that's  all — upset 
by  what  has  happened.  We  have  the  worst  reports 
from  the  Northwest — have  lost  a  great  deal  of  money 
— in  point  of  fact,  gone  to  pieces.  We  must  give  up 
everything — this  house — 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  cry  that  struck  upon  his 
startled  ears  as  one  of  satisfaction  ;  and  her  words  which 
followed  it  confirmed  the  impression  strangely. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  " 

"  Glad !  "  he  echoed,  in  amazement.  What  did  it 
mean  ?  Had  she,  too,  lost  her  reason  ? 

But  now  she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
kissed  him.  "  Gordon,  dear  Gordon !  "  she  went  on, 

192 


Certainties   Unforeseen 

half  laughing,  half  sobbing.  "  You  cannot  understand. 
I  feared  it  was  so  much  worse.  To  lose  the  money  is 
the  merest  trifle,  if  that  is  all — if  there  is  no  dis 
grace " 

"  None,  dear,  none,  I  hope ;  I  am  sure  of  it.  But  we 
are  ruined.  Is  not  that  enough?  All  this  goes  with 
the  rest — to  satisfy  our  creditors." 

"  Oh,  Gordon,  I  am  so  thankful !  This  is  nothing — 
nothing.  I  have  never  cared  for  it.  The  truth  is,  that 
I  have  hated  it  always." 

"  Nina!    What  are  you  saying?  " 

She  drew  herself  up,  smiling  through  her  tears.  "  It 
is  the  truth,"  she  repeated,  quietly.  "  I  had  no  heart 
in  all  this  luxury, — not  even  the  heart  to  protest  or  to 
complain.  You  would  not  see, — what  did  it  matter? 
I  have  tried  to  obey  the  letter  and  the  spirit, — for  bet 
ter,  for  worse,  it  was.  Well,  let  the  worst  come  to  the 
worst  now ;  now,  you  will  see,  and  it  will  all  be  so  much 
better,  so  much  easier.  You  will  see.  I  shall  not  com 
plain." 

Love  and  admiration  mingled  in  his  eyes,  which  the 
rising  tears  slowly  dimmed.  "  Nina,  you  are  an 
angel !  "  he  murmured,  and  made  a  movement  to  throw 
his  arms  around  her. 

"  No,  no !  "  she  protested,  shrinking  from  him  now 
unaccountably,  and,  as  he  persisted,  struggling  to  free 
herself  in  a  kind  of  terror.  "  You  must  not  say  such 
things.  I  don't  deserve  them."  Then  she  broke  down 

193 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

completely,  and,  resisting  no  longer,  hid  her  face  upon 
his  shoulder.  He  soothed  and  comforted  her,  until  this 
outburst  of  grief,  incomprehensible  to  him,  had  almost 
exhausted  itself;  until,  as  she  grew  calmer,  he  turned 
for  relief  to  the  question  of  the  moment. 

"  Nina !  "  he  whispered.  "  I  must  not  stay  here 
longer.  Let  us  leave  this  place,  which  is  not  ours.  Be 
brave,  look  up !  and  come  with  me !  " 

She  recovered  herself  instantly,  and,  drawing  his 
face  gently  down,  kissed  him  upon  the  forehead.  "  I 
am  ready,"  she  said.  "  Come !  " 

So  they  went  out  together,  in  the  glow  of  a  new,  in 
expressible  happiness,  with  scarce  another  thought  for 
the  splendors  left  behind.  And  this  to  him  seemed 
stranger  than  all  the  rest ;  that  the  luxury  upon  which, 
but  yesterday,  so  much  depended  should  now  count 
next  to  nothing. 

She  would  not  hear  of  the  carriage,  and  made  him 
dismiss  it,  then  and  there.  They  could  not  afford  such 
extravagances ;  she  must  go  at  once  to  her  father's, — 
but  on  foot.  He  yielded,  and  as  they  walked  he  pre 
pared  her  with  great  tenderness  for  the  sudden  turn 
which  Mr.  Stanwood's  illness  had  taken,  dwelling  on 
the  hope  that  the  old  man's  alienation  of  mind  was 
merely  a  temporary  thing.  Her  pace  quickened  ner 
vously,  but  she  faced  this  new  anxiety  with  cheerful 
courage.  If  it  were  really  but  the  malady  of  a  mo 
ment,  why,  surely,  all  must  be  for  the  best.  Her 

194 


Certainties  Unforeseen 

father's  scheming  was  his  whole  life.  He  had  been 
self-sufficient  always.  For  him,  in  misfortune,  there 
could  be  no  solace,  such  as  they  had  found. 

At  the  door  Gordon  waited  only  long  enough  to  hear 
that  Mr.  Stanwood  was  still  asleep;  then  turned  back 
to  take  up  the  tangled  threads  of  business,  where  his 
enforced  absence  left  them.  The  most  disheartening 
of  all  labors!  Yet  he  resumed  it  with  a  strength  un 
known  before,  and  unimagined.  His  wife  had  borne 
the  bad  news  bravely,  as  he  had  foreseen.  What  he 
had  not  foreseen  was  the  inestimable  value  to  him  of 
such  a  wife. 


195 


XV 

ADVERSITY 

"  T  F  there  is  anything  that  I  can  do,  it  shall  be  done," 

•*-  declared  Brinkley  Barrington,  emphatically ; 
"  by  any  means  which  you  advise,  direct  or  indirect." 

"  We  must  reckon  without  the  first  altogether,"  re 
plied  Dr.  Brinkley.  "  This  is  not  a  case  of  charity,  but 
one  where  quiet  influence,  judiciously  exerted,  may 
turn  the  scale.  Wise  was  more  fortunate  than  some 
of  the  men  who  came  to  grief  a  year  ago.  He  had  the 
resources  of  his  talent  to  draw  upon." 

"  Precarious  at  best,  and  at  the  worst  a  pitfall !  " 
asserted  the  millionaire  and  materialist.  "  In  turning 
to  music  as  a  profession  at  his  age,  or,  indeed,  at  any 
other,  Wise  displayed  enormous  courage  or  enormous 
foolhardiness." 

The  doctor  pulled  his  big  mustache  reflectively. 
"  It  was  the  natural  bent,  after  all,"  said  he,  "  to  which 
Wise  reverted  when  the  other  course  failed  him.  I  un 
derstand  your  point  of  view,  but,  as  a  professional  man, 
must  admit  his,  also.  A  profession  is  not  without  ad 
vantages,  Brinkley." 

"  Yes,  when  there's  money  in  it.  But,  music, — good 
196 


Adversity 


Heavens!      How    does    Wise    keep    his    head    above 
water?" 

"  Well,  he  doesn't  drive  a  four-in-hand,"  explained 
the  doctor,  smiling  at  his  own  impossible  suggestion. 
"  And  he  makes  his  pupils  pay  the  piper.  Without 
them  he  would  surely  be  submerged.  Last  winter, — 
his  first, — he  contrived  to  secure  a  reasonable  number. 
Then  the  summer  intervened,  and  the  question  of  con 
tinuance  arose.  This  autumn  has  been  a  very  anxious 
time  with  him.  But  the  worst  of  that  anxiety,  I  trust, 
is  over.  Melodious  longings  seem  to  spring  eternal  in 
the  human  breast,  and  Wise  has  somewhat  the  luck  of 
a  patient  fisherman.  Ambitious  victims  begin  to  snap 
at  his  bait  again." 

"  It  must  be  a  dog's  life.    Where  does  he  live?  " 

"  Under  the  roof,  in  a  small  apartment  off  Wash 
ington  Square,  with  a  fine  prospect  of  the  stars.  It's 
not  so  bad  a  place, — for  a  musician.  I  was  there  this 
morning.  In  fact,  I  came  directly  from  him  to  you." 

Mr.  Barrington  stirred  uneasily  in  his  easy-chair,  and 
whistled,  as  if  to  keep  his  courage  up  in  the  approach 
ing  moment  of  desperation.  Then,  turning  to  the  doc 
tor  with  a  puzzled  look,  he  made  his  plunge. 

"Well,  George,  what  would  you  have?"  he  asked. 
"  Am  I  to  take  a  course  in  harmony,  counterpoint,  or 
whatever  the  devilish  thing  may  be,  and  become  an 
item  of  social  gossip,  with  a  printed  testimonial  for 
advertising  purposes  ?  " 

197 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  Not  half  a  bad  idea !  "  said  the  doctor,  laughing. 
"  Suppose  I  take  you  at  your  word.  But  I  think  my 
own  idea  is  better,  and  so,  I  think,  will  you." 

"  Fire  away,  then,  at  your  worst !  In  Heaven's 
name,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  First,  you  must  understand  that  Wise  is  by  nature 
and  profession  a  composer.  In  the  intervals  of  in 
struction  he  writes  songs, — and  sells  them." 

"  I  see ;  but  I  don't  sing  in  public,  more's  the  pity !  " 

"  No.  Still,  there  are  those  who  do,  with  whom  your 
word  has  weight.  A  word  is  all  I  want, — not  sung,  but 
spoken." 

"  To  whom  shall  I  speak  it,  pray  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  Madame  Stahlberg.  She  is  announced  at 
the  Opera  House  for  the  winter,  and  has  just  landed. 
On  the  off  nights,  as  usual,  she  will  have  her  song-re 
citals,  here  and  in  other  cities,  besides  the  many  private 
engagements  which  may  be  offered  her.  At  each  of 
these  she  must  sing  a  group  of  Wise's  songs,  to  keep  his 
name  before  the  public,  and  make  him,  as  it  were,  the 
composer  of  the  hour.  That  is  the  pious  scheme  which 
sprang  into  my  head,  just  now,  as  I  left  his  door.  He 
knows  nothing  of  it,  naturally.  It  is  all  my  own.  I 
come  to  you  at  the  moment  of  its  inception." 

"  Very  cleverly  contrived  !    If " 

"If?" 

"  If  the  lady,  herself,  will  only  play  her  part  in  it." 

"  The  lady  should  be  predisposed  already  in  its  favor, 
198 


Adversity 


since  she  made  a  hit  with  one  of  Wise's  things  in  your 
own  house,  not  so  very  long  ago." 

"  True.  I  had  forgotten  that,"  admitted  Mr.  Bar- 
rington,  more  hopefully.  "  What  she  did  once,  she  shall 
do  again,  when  she  sings  for  me  this  season.  So  much 
I  guarantee.  But  any  man  may  lead  a  prima  donna  to 
the  water,  and  no  man  can  make  her  drink,  even  of  the 
Pierian  spring.  I  will  do  the  leading;  beyond  that  all 
rests  with  her  caprice, — or  her  manager's." 

"  Good !  I  have  faith  in  your  diplomacy.  Madame 
Stahlberg  is  broad-minded  and  benevolent,  they  say. 
Do  your  part,  and  who  knows  ?  Her  virtues  may  com 
bine  with  her  caprice  and  interest  much  to  Wise's  ad 
vantage." 

"  You  believe  in  his  talent,  then?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  unhesitatingly.  "  It 
needs  for  development  only  the  warmth  of  recogni 
tion.  What  is  more,  I  believe  in  his  courage,  and  in 
his  wife's." 

"Ah!     So  she  bears  misfortune  bravely." 

"  Without  fear,  without  reproach.  She  faces  all, 
accepts  all,  ventures  all  with  cheerful  readiness.  It 
was  she  who  urged  Wise  to  his  present  course.  You 
may  credit  her  with  whatever  measure  of  success  is 
in  store  for  him.  She  is  a  woman  in  ten  thousand, 
Brinkley." 

"  Who  would  have  thought  it  of  old  Stanwood's 
daughter?  I  remember  admiring  her  when  she  came 

199 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

to  us  once  at  Brinkwood.  They  were  on  the  top  of 
the  wave  then.  Poor  girl !  " 

"  Don't  pity  her,  my  dear  fellow.  It's  a  waste  of 
emotion  which  she  would  be  the  first  to  deprecate. 
Wave  or  no  wave,  if  I  am  any  judge,  Nina  Wise  is 
happier  now  than  she  was  then,  strange  as  it  may  seem 
to  you." 

Plainly,  to  Mr.  Barrington  it  seemed  very  strange 
indeed,  but  he  deferred  discussion  of  the  point.  "  She 
has  no  children,  I  believe,"  he  remarked,  after  a  silence. 
"  And  her  precious  skinflint  of  a  father?  What  has 
become  of  him?  " 

"Ah!  There  is  room  for  your  compassion.  He 
deserved  his  fate,  no  doubt,  yet  I  think  his  worst 
enemy  might  forgive  him  now." 

"What!     Is  he  dead,  or  dying?" 

"No;  alive — very  much  alive,  counting  his  millions 
all  day  long, — on  paper.  He  is  a  harmless  imbecile 
in  a  private  asylum,  where  I  saw  him  the  other  day 
at  Nina's  request.  An  incurable  case!  " 

"  Poor  devil!  Yet,  after  all,  he  is  happy,  I  suppose. 
Why  should  I  pity  him?  I  won't  and  don't.  But  if 
old  Stanwood  saved  nothing,  even  for  the  feathers  of 
his  own  nest,  he  must  have  turned  imbecile  indeed." 

"  He  had  no  choice  in  the  matter,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  Everything  went  by  the  board.  Nina  would  even 
have  turned  over  to  the  creditors  the  small  sum  she 
inherited  from  her  mother.  But  I  prevented  that, 

2OO 


Adversity 


and  it  is  now  in  my  hands.  The  income  is  little  more 
than  enough  to  make  her  father  comfortable." 

Mr.  Barrington  sighed.  "  Well,  George,  I  wish  for 
all  their  sakes  that  the  old  villain,  in  a  lucid  interval, 
had  buried  a  few  thousands  somewhere,  and  that  you 
were  in  charge  thereof.  As  for  the  Stahlberg  scheme, 
whatever  it  may  be  worth,  I  repeat  that  you  may 
count  on  me  to  act  promptly.  Is  that  all?" 

"  Yes,  until  my  laboring  brain  delivers  itself  of  an 
other  burden,"  laughed  his  cousin  as  they  parted.  "  A 
thousand  thanks!  "  And  Dr.  Brinkley  went  out  again 
into  the  morning  sunshine. 

"  A  few  thousands  buried  somewhere !  "  he  mur 
mured  to  himself  as  he  turned  from  the  Avenue  toward 
his  down-town  train.  "  If  only  Nina  had  them,  and 
would  trust  me  with  the  secret.  Ah!"  Struck  with 
a  sudden  thought,  he  stood  still  in  surprise  and  per 
plexity,  then  walked  on  at  a  slower  pace,  while  the 
thought  still  absorbed  him.  "Strange,  strange!"  he 
muttered.  "  I  had  forgotten  that  completely.  And 
she  has  never  referred  to  it.  That  is  strange,  too." 
Stopping  again,  he  pulled  out  his  watch.  "  I  must 
see  her  at  once;  the  sooner  the  better."  And,  dismiss 
ing  all  affairs  but  this,  he  hurried  to  the  train  with  a 
new  purpose,  and  in  half  an  hour  rang  at  the  door 
of  Wise's  apartment.  The  sound  of  piano-playing 
penetrated  to  the  landing.  Gordon  was  busy  with  a 
pupil,  then,  of  course.  Capital!  since  he  particularly 

201 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

desired  to  see  Mrs.  Wise  alone.  She  was  at  home, 
the  maid  said.  And  he  went  in  unannounced,  con 
gratulating  himself  heartily  upon  his  swift  determina 
tion. 

Sunshine  streamed  into  the  small  parlor,  giving  the 
room  an  air  of  cheerfulness  which  it  sorely  needed. 
For  it  was  bare,  insufficiently  furnished,  and  its  ap 
pointments  were  such  as  the  present  occupants  would 
never  have  chosen.  Enforced  association  with  them 
must  have  added  a  minor  trial  to  life;  yet  Nina's  face, 
as  she  sat  at  work  there,  expressed  only  contentment. 
A  momentary  shade  of  anxiety  clouded  it  at  the  doc 
tor's  unexpected  visit.  She  dropped  her  sewing,  and 
started  up,  but  a  glance  reassured  her.  Whatever  his 
object  might  be  in  coming  back,  he  did  not  bring  bad 
news. 

"  You  have  forgotten  something?  Shall  I  call  Gor 
don  in?"  she  asked,  with  a  smile.  Then,  at  his  nega 
tive  sign,  she  resumed  her  place. 

"  Yes, — and  no !  "  he  answered,  as  he  drew  up  a 
chair  for  himself.  "  That  is  to  say,  I  have  forgotten 
something;  so  have  you.  But  we  need  not  trouble 
Gordon  with  it." 

"  I  don't  understand  you.  What  have  we  for 
gotten  ?  " 

"  A  certain  piece  of  property,  which  you  acquired 
long  ago  through  me,  which  now  should  be  available, 
to  wit :  Paul  Hamming's  painting  of  '  Tithonus.'  " 

202 


Adversity 


She  started  and  changed  color,  as  the  doctor  must 
have  observed;  but  since  she  did  not  speak,  he  con 
tinued,  calmly: 

"  When,  at  your  request,  I  bought  the  picture  for 
you,  I  hardly  regarded  it  in  the  light  of  a  profitable 
investment.  But  Hemming  has  had  his  share  of  suc 
cess,  through  which  the  value  of  all  his  work  is  pro 
portionately  increased.  As  this  form  of  property, 
however,  bears  no  income  it  should  be  disposed  of 
and  the  proceeds  reinvested.  I  want  your  leave  to  sell 
the  picture,  that  is  all." 

"I  understand,"  said  Nina,  in  a  low  voice;  "but 
it  is  impossible."  She  had  put  the  work  aside  again, 
and  her  restless  hands  clasped  and  unclasped  them 
selves  nervously. 

"  Surely  not.  The  question  of  ownership  need  not 
arise  at  all.  I  will  see  to  that,  and — 

"  But  it  is  impossible,  quite  impossible." 

"Impossible?  Why?  "  demanded  the  doctor.  She 
did  not  answer,  and,  misinterpreting  her  silence, — dis 
turbed,  for  more  reasons  than  one  by  her  persistent 
opposition — he  went  on,  emphatically,  in  a  tone  of 
annoyance:  "The  picture  is  valuable.  You  have  no 
right  to  keep  it  longer." 

Then,  with  the  same  air  of  effort,  avoiding  his  look 
of  surprise  and  displeasure,  she  replied: 

"  It  is  no  longer  in  my  keeping.  It  does  not  ex 
ist." 

203 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean  that  the  picture  of  '  Tithonus '  has  been 
destroyed." 

The  doctor  started  in  his  turn.  "Destroyed!"  he 
stammered,  still  failing  to  comprehend,  while  all  pos 
sible  accidents  of  fire,  flood,  and  lightning  coursed 
through  his  mind  at  once.  "  I — I  did  not  know  that 
you  had  removed  it  from  the  storage  warehouse,"  he 
said,  inconsequently. 

"  I  did  not  remove  it.  It  was  destroyed, — not 
through  accident, — more  than  a  year  ago." 

The  cloud  in  the  doctor's  mind  melted  away.  Look 
ing  with  clearer  vision,  he  detected  the  truth  in  part, 
and  drew  upon  his  imagination  for  the  rest. 

"Ah!  I  see,"  he  said,  more  gently.  "Since  you 
have  destroyed  the  picture,  there  is  no  more  to  do, 
no  more  to  say." 

In  point  of  fact,  there  was  much  to  say.  Dr.  Brink- 
ley's  heart  was  suddenly  lightened,  and  he  longed 
to  put  his  relief  into  words.  But  to  find  the  right  ones 
was  no  easy  matter.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then 
rose,  took  up  his  hat,  and  moved  toward  the  door,  still 
hesitating.  It  was  he,  now,  who  avoided  her  look,  feel 
ing  that  he  must  get  away  as  best  he  might,  and  leave 
expression  of  the  predominating  thought  until  another 
time. 

Meanwhile,  during  this  awkward  silence,  which  was 
broken  only  by  notes  of  the  piano  in  the  inner  room, 

204 


Adversity 


Nina  had  been  watching  him  intently.  Unable  to 
divine  what  he  would  not  reveal,  she  took  his  em 
barrassment  for  vexation,  his  uncertainty,  for  ill-con 
cealed  coldness.  He  had  misunderstood  her  statement, 
of  course;  that  mattered  little.  But  his  mind  was  too 
alert  not  to  have  grasped  something  of  what,  by  im 
plication,  the  statement  admitted.  He  guessed  what 
forces  had  been  at  work,  and  he  blamed  her, — justly, 
alas!  perhaps  even  more  than  the  sternest  justice  war 
ranted.  She  was  overcome  by  an  extravagant  fear  that 
if  he  left  her  now  without  further  speech  the  first  step 
would  have  been  taken  toward  a  breach  in  their  long 
friendship, — a  breach  that  might  never  be  healed. 
How  to  prevent  this?  She  could  not  bear  the  thought 
of  it.  He  should  not  carry  away  a  false  impression. 
She  must  be  definite,  at  last,  and,  forcing  him  to  an 
acknowledgment,  extort  some  word  of  pity,  of  conso 
lation.  Or,  failing  these,  it  seemed  to  her  that  open 
censure  of  the  sharpest  sort  would  be  better  than  such 
reserve.  Ideas,  half-formed,  crowded  thick  and  fast 
upon  her,  confusing  themselves  hopelessly.  Of  them 
all  one  alone  was  clear.  He  must  not  go  unchal 
lenged. 

"Wait  one  moment!"  she  faltered,  as,  at  the  door, 
he  turned  toward  her  for  his  formal  leave-taking. 
"Wait!  You  do  not  understand.  It  was  not  I  who 
destroyed  Mr.  Hemming's  picture."  He  looked  up, 
mystified,  to  meet  her  look,  that  now  was  not  with- 

205 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

drawn.  "  You  must  hear, — I  must  explain.  It  was 
not  I,  but  Mr.  Hemming,  himself." 

She  gained  courage  at  the  sound  of  her  own  voice. 
It  grew  stronger  as,  in  plain  terms,  she  proceeded  to 
disclose  the  secret  of  her  heart;  once  committed,  im 
parting  without  reservation  her  doubts  and  certainties, 
the  mental  struggle,  the  processes  of  resistance;  de 
scribing  the  chance  encounter  and  its  consequences, 
the  passionate  appeal,  the  strong  denial,  the  final  event 
which  that  denial  had  precipitated,  laying  the  burden 
of  blame  throughout  upon  herself,  making  it  light  to 
Hemming.  An  hour  ago  she  would  have  been  willing 
to  swear  that,  for  her,  such  a  confidence  to  any  human 
being  was  an  utter  impossibility,  not  only  from  the 
nature  of  the  facts,  but  also  from  the  mere  physical 
difficulty  of  clothing  them  in  words.  Now,  the  ease 
with  which  the  inconceivable  task  was  accomplished 
startled  her;  so,  too,  the  increasing  comfort  which  fol 
lowed  every  word.  Her  weight  of  sorrow  shared, 
seemed  reduced  proportionately.  Upon  that  she  had 
not  reckoned;  it  was  unaccountable,  unless  due  to  the 
attitude  of  the  confidant  on  whom  her  tortured  soul 
relied.  He  listened  gravely,  without  a  syllable  of  in 
terruption;  but  there  was  helpful  tenderness  in  his 
glistening  eyes. 

When  she  had  finished  speaking  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  her  shoulder,  and  in  a  moment  said,  gently: 

"  Something  of  all  this  I  half  suspected.  I  feared 
206 


Adversity 


danger,  hoping  that  my  fear  would  never  be  con 
firmed.  I  knew  no  details,  I  could  not  be  sure;  but 
I  was  sure  of  one  thing  absolutely,  that,  if  the  danger 
came,  you  were  strong  enough  to  meet  it.  I  was 
right,  you  see;  it  has  passed,  leaving  you  stronger 
still." 

"  You  will  not  even  blame  me,  then,"  she  sighed. 
"  I  could  have  borne  that  better." 

"  Blame  you  ?  Yes ;  for  judging  yourself  too  harshly. 
The  fault,  if  you  insist  upon  it,  has  been  atoned.  To 
express  all  I  feel  would  be  to  praise,  not  blame  you, 
—in  terms  of  admiration  to  which  you  would  not 
listen." 

She  shook  her  head,  with  an  imploring  gesture. 

"  But  you  will  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice. 
To  that  you  must  listen,  since  you  have  trusted  me 
so  far." 

"  Of  course,"  she  answered,  simply.  "  Pray  go 
on." 

"  One  question  first, — not  of  yourself,  but  of  Paul 
Hemming.  What  has  he  said  or  done?  " 

"  Nothing.  What  should  he  say  or  do?  Since  that 
day  I  have  not  seen  him." 

"  And  he  has  never  written?  " 

"  Never." 

"Strange!  Not  one  word  to  you  or  to  Gordon  of 
your  change  in  fortunes?" 

"Ah!  I  did  not  understand.  When  the  change 
207 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

occurred  he  wrote  Gordon  instantly  a  long  letter,  full 
of  sympathy.  There  was  a  message  to  me, — the  merest 
formal  message,  nothing  more.  He  has  sent  pupils 
here,  and  Gordon  sees  him  sometimes,  though  never 
in  this  house." 

The  doctor  drew  a  long  breath  of  satisfaction.  "  I 
am  very  glad  to  hear  it.  All  is  as  it  should  be." 

"  It  could  not  well  be  otherwise.  What  else  was 
possible?  " 

"  Nothing  else,  since  Paul  Hemming  is  a  gentle 
man.  He  could  but  accept  your  word  as  final,  and 
conform  to  its  implied  conditions.  Clearly,  he  has 
done  so,  as  might  have  been  expected,  for  the  matter 
of  that;  yet  it  is  always  pleasant  to  have  one's  faith 
confirmed.  You  will  meet,  some  day,  of  course;  in 
the  nature  of  things  that  is  not  to  be  avoided.  But 
there  should  be  no  shadow  of  feeling  between  you, 
no  arriere-pensee  on  either  side.  He  will  do  his  best 
on  his,  I  am  sure.  My  advice  to  you  is  to  do  yours, — 
to  put  this  whole  sad  matter  at  once  and  for  ever  from 
your  mind." 

"  If  I  could  forget,"  she  demurred. 

"  Do  we  ever  forget  anything?  "  he  asked,  earnestly. 
"  I  do  not  exact  so  much.  But  the  leaf  is  turned 
down,  and  I  beg  you  not  to  turn  it  back,  that  is  all. 
The  sins  we  have  all  committed  would  harrow  up  our 
souls  if  we  regarded  them  continually.  Each  one  of 
us  has  a  background  of  the  dreadful  past,  mercifully 

208 


Adversity 


dimmed  by  time,  when  kept  where  it  belongs.  To 
drag  it  forward  is  the  fatal  error  of  a  morbid  nature. 
Yours  is  the  reverse  of  that,  to  be  followed  instinctively 
and  safely.  Follow  it,  then ;  be  sound,  be  wise ;  leav 
ing  this  between  ourselves,  never  referring  to  it  again, 
never  thinking  of  it,  if  that  be  possible;  letting  the 
remembrance  die  a  natural  death,  as  the  wrong  itself 
has  died." 

"And  Gordon?"  she  suggested,  mournfully.  "It 
was  a  wrong  to  him.  " 

"  The  past  is  past,"  he  replied,  with  emphasis.  "  To 
make  present  trouble  of  it  would  only  inflict  pain,  of 
which  I  see  no  need.  Be  silent,  be  forgetful.  Let 
time  heal  the  wound.  That  is  my  advice;  try  at  least 
to  follow  it." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's 
thought,  "  if  only  to  prove  that  I  am  grateful  for  your 
kindness.  How  grateful,  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"  Do  not  speak  of  that!  "  he  urged,  as  they  shook 
hands  and  parted.  "  What  friend  of  yours  would  not 
have  said  as  much?  Count  upon  me  always  for  all 
the  help  I  have  to  give." 

When  Nina  was  left  alone  a  great  calmness  seemed 
to  descend  upon  her  soul.  The  bitterness  of  self- 
reproach  was  allayed,  if  not  removed,  and  that  peace 
of  mind  which  the  sympathy  of  a  wise  counsellor  alone 
brings  with  it,  soothed  and  cheered  her.  How  good 
and  kind  and  true  the  doctor  was!  Above  all,  how 

209 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

gentle!  His  compassionate  expression  of  judgment 
might  well  have  been  inferred  as  the  natural  outgrowth 
of  long  experience  in  dealing  with  perplexities,  mental 
and  physical.  Why  had  she  not  trusted  to  it  frankly 
long  ago?  What  a  strange  chance  had  brought  about 
the  unpremeditated  confidence, —  a  chance  which  now 
she  regarded  as  the  most  fortunate  of  blessings! 

With  more  than  common  zeal  during  the  next  few 
days  she  strove  to  counteract  in  her  husband  one  of 
those  professional  discouragements  which  at  times 
seem  to  benumb  the  bravest  spirits,  making  effort 
futile  and  hope  a  mockery.  Gordon  in  such  moments 
rarely  complained.  But  his  drawn  looks  and  op 
pressive  silences  for  her  were  full  of  meaning. 

Her  endeavor,  then,  was  to  turn  him  for  an  hour, 
at  least,  from  his  daily  cares,  and,  upon  the  pretext  of 
standing  much  in  need  of  exercise  herself,  to  take  him 
out  into  the  open  air,  while  she  diverted  his  train  of 
thought  until  his  spirits  should  keep  pace  with  that 
prescribed  for  hers.  It  was  often  uphill  work.  Yet 
sometimes  he  came  back  refreshed,  rewarding  her 
pains  by  an  admission  that  the  walk  had  done  him 
good.  In  this  instance,  however,  his  fit  of  depression 
was  prolonged,  and  her  indirect  struggles  with  it 
proved,  one  after  another,  unavailing. 

They  were  walking  home  in  the  twilight  through 
lower  Fifth  Avenue.  He  had  not  spoken  for  a  long 
time.  She,  feeling  that  present  resources  were  ex- 

2IO 


Adversity 


hausted,  now  abstained  from  disturbing  him.  A  group 
of  day-laborers,  returning  from  work,  came  toward 
them  in  the  failing  light, — toil-stained,  dull,  heavy- 
featured,  silent  as  themselves.  As  they  stepped  aside 
to  let  the  workmen  pass  he  stood  still,  looked  after  the 
rough,  misshapen  figures,  and  sighed. 

"  What  is  it,  Gordon  ?  "  she  asked,  putting  her  arm 
in  his  to  draw  him  on  with  affectionate  insistence. 
"  You  must  tell  me.  It  isn't  fair  not  to  let  me  know." 

He  sighed  again,  then  yielded  to  this  direct  attack. 
"  No,"  he  said,  "  it  isn't  fair.  I  was  only  envying 
those  men,  that's  all.  They  work  with  their  hands, 
not  their  heads;  it's  wiser,  more  profitable.  I  have 
been  thinking  that  I  ought  to  do  the  same." 

"  Oh,  Gordon  !    Not  seriously  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Not  literally,  of  course,  with  spade  and  pick 
axe.  I  have  hardly  the  gift  for  that.  But  there  are 
other  forms  of  drudgery,  pure  and  simple,  which  bring 
in  daily  bread,  which  are  sure  and  safe,  so  far  as  that 
goes.  The  game  we  are  playing  is  horribly  uncer 
tain." 

"We  are  not  beaten  yet.     Are  we?" 

"  Perhaps  not.  But  I  must  look  ahead,  or  we  shall 
be  deep  in  debt  before  we  know  it.  And,  looking 
ahead,  I  see  so  many  obstacles." 

"  Obstacles  are  things  to  be  overcome,  Gordon. 
Dr.  Brinkley  quoted  that  the  other  day.  Let  us  live 
on  bread  and  water,  and  overcome  them." 

211 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  That's  well  enough  in  theory,  but  not  easy  to 
practise.  Where  failure  is  unavoidable,  the  sooner  one 
admits  the  fact  the  better." 

"With  the  fact  proved,  yes;  no,  while  any  doubt 
remains.  Doubt  means  hope.  And  you  say  yourself 
that  the  game  is  still  uncertain.  Wait  a  little  longer, 
Gordon.  Surely  your  success  warrants  it." 

"  My  success!  "  he  repeated,  bitterly.  "  That  is  all 
artistic,  so-called.  A  will-o'-the-wisp — a  fool's  fire !  It 
has  no  commercial  value." 

"  Well,  that  may  come,  sooner  than  you  conceive, 
perhaps ;  it  will  come.  We  must  not  give  up  yet." 

"  And  in  the  meantime  we  must  live.  While  the 
grass  grows  the  horse  starves.  Read  your  Hamlet. 
'  The  proverb  is  something  musty.'  " 

To  this  she  made  no  answer.  They  had  reached 
their  own  door,  and  went  up  the  long  flights  of  stairs 
to  their  apartment,  silently,  in  the  dark.  After  strik 
ing  a  light  he  passed  on  into  the  room  devoted  to 
his  work,  but  presently  came  back,  bringing  some 
papers  in  his  hand. 

"See!"  he  said.  "Here  is  my  account,  which 
Strelitz,  the  publisher,  sent  nearly  a  week  ago.  I  had 
not  the  heart  to  show  it  to  you.  My  songs  are  drugs 
in  the  market;  they  will  not  sell.  Look  at  my  profits 
for  six  months.  Compare  them  with  the  butcher's  bill 
for  one." 

"  We  must  have  patience,"  she  replied,  putting  the 

212 


Adversity 


papers  aside  gently.  "  Patience  and  courage, — the 
courage  of  conviction." 

"  How  long?  Until  the  old  songs  are  turned  into 
trunk-linings  and  the  new  ones  declined  gratefully? 
That  would  be  conviction  with  a  vengeance." 

"  Yes.  Before  giving  in,  I  would  go  even  as  far  as 
that, — farther,  even." 

"  But  we  cannot  live  on  faith  always.  Mean 
while — 

"  Meanwhile,  there  is  your  teaching,  Gordon." 

"  A  means  to  an  end,  that's  all.  At  a  desk  down 
town  I  could  make  double  the  money.  And  we  need 
it.  Let  me  strike  our  balance  for  you." 

He  sat  down  to  steep  himself  in  figures,  adding, 
multiplying,  erasing  them.  She,  after  putting  away 
her  hat  and  coat,  began  to  set  the  room  in  order,  par 
ticularly  one  corner  of  it  where  her  own  desk  stood. 
There  she  fluttered  softly  about,  removing  impercep 
tible  dust,  glancing  from  time  to  time  at  her  husband 
nervously.  At  last  he  tossed  aside  his  pencil,  and 
summoned  her  to  inspect  his  calculations.  These  were 
not  encouraging.  The  result,  which  he  carefully  ex 
plained  in  detail,  showed  that  bankruptcy  and  ruin  were 
imminent.  They  must  have  more  money,  to  go  on 
even  as  they  were  going.  That  was  the  black  and 
white,  the  long  and  short  of  it,  without  superfluous 
flourishes. 

"  You  see,  my  dear,  in  three  months — "  he  went  on, 
213 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

then  stopped  short,  wondering  if  she  understood,  for 
she  answered  nothing;  indeed,  had  seemed  not  to  hear. 
But,  in  a  doubtful  way,  she  went  back  to  the  desk, 
and,  taking  from  it  a  small  roll  of  bank-bills,  put  them 
into  his  hand. 

"  Here  is  some  money  that  I  have  saved,"  she  ex 
plained.  "  It  is  not  much,  but  we  may  add  it  to  the 
balance." 

"Nina,  what  do  you  mean?     What  is  this?" 

"  It  is  very  little,"  she  replied,  smiling  at  his  genuine 
astonishment.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  let  you  know  until 
I  had  earned  enough  to  make  the  bit  of  news  worth 
while,  but — 

"  Earned   it?     How?" 

She  laughed  aloud  at  this,  and,  pulling  open  a  deep 
lower  drawer  of  her  desk,  displayed  various  pieces  of 
unfinished  needlework. 

"  In  this  way, — with  my  hands,  of  course.  I  had  so 
much  time  hanging  heavy  on  them!  It  has  all  been 
done  through  Suzette  Brinkley,  who  is  more  than 
good  about  it.  Look !  I  have  orders  ahead  for  things 
like  this,"  and  she  held  up  a  scrap  of  embroidery. 
"  It  is  very  easy  work,  you  see, — just  the  kind  that 
I  like  most  to  do." 

He  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant,  bending  over  the 
drawer  to  examine  the  work  gravely.  And,  taking 
both  her  hands  in  his,  he  kissed  them.  "  You  have 
done  all  this,  and  I  never  knew — never  imagined — " 

214 


Adversity 


Then  his  voice  broke  as  he  turned  away  to  pace  out 
the  incomplete  sentence. 

"  Gordon,  you  don't  mind,  do  you?  I  hated  so  to 
be  idle ;  I  thought  that  I  must  help  to  put  off  the  evil 
day,  if  only  a  little.  You  don't  really  mind,  dear,  do 
you?" 

He  stopped  in  his  walk  and,  drawing  her  toward 
him,  clasped  her  in  his  arms.  "  No,  dear,  I  don't  mind. 
Give  me  your  courage,  and  I'll  do  my  best.  The  evil 
day  shall  be  postponed,  for  a  while,  at  least;  at  least 
we  won't  give  up  the  fight  until  we're  fairly  beaten. 
But  how  cold  you  are!  Come  into  the  workshop. 
We'll  make  a  fire  there, — with  these!  "  And  he  caught 
up  the  publisher's  disheartening  account  to  start  the 
blaze  upon  their  one  small  hearth-stone.  The  open 
fire  was  a  luxury  which  they  often  denied  themselves. 
But  to-night  Gordon  heaped  up  the  logs  till  the  chim 
ney  roared.  Formerly,  when  they  could  build  fires 
in  plenty,  Nina  had  too  often  been  left  alone  with 
them.  Now  misfortune  had  drawn  the  two  together 
inconceivably,  quickening  old  sympathies,  reviving  old 
affections.  In  the  hour  of  trial  he  had  turned  his  back 
resolutely  upon  everything  that  he  seemed  to  hold 
most  dear,  facing  privation  without  complaint,  striv 
ing  before  all  else  to  smooth  the  way  for  her.  She 
admired  his  courage,  which  was  but  the  reflection  of 
her  own,  though  of  that  first  cause  she  remained  quite 
unconscious.  Her  admiration  strengthened  the  love 

215 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

which  once  so  nearly  had  relaxed  its  hold;  and  from 
these  two  forces,  intensified  by  the  undercurrent  of 
remorse  for  weakness  that  now  seemed  to  her  incred 
ible,  resulted  a  demonstrative  tenderness  which  touched 
him  profoundly.  He,  too,  had  his  remorse  for  selfish 
neglect  of  her  in  prosperous  days;  but  when  he  tried 
to  speak  of  this  she  would  not  listen.  They  were  to 
look  forward,  not  back,  as  she  declared,  strong  in  their 
present  happiness,  assured  by  mutual  confidence  that 
they  could  bear  together  whatever  burden  the  future 
should  lay  upon  them. 

As  they  sat  in  the  firelight  Gordon  wished  to  be  told 
exactly  how  Suzette  Brinkley's  friendly  schemes  had 
been  carried  out.  It  was  like  her  to  come  forward  in 
a  practical  way ;  she  had  her  father's  kindliness ;  why 
was  it  that  so  fine  and  generous  a  nature  as  hers 
should  persist  in  the  limitations  of  single  life  ?  It  must 
be  her  own  fault,  of  course;  she  found  lovers,  no  doubt, 
by  the  score ;  he  had  always  liked  her  ;  now,  as  it 
appeared,  he  wanted  to  see  her  married,  off  hand. 
When  Nina,  laughing  at  his  earnestness,  reminded 
him  that  single  women,  and  even  single  men,  had  been 
known  to  live  happily  as  well  as  altruistically,  he  would 
not  agree.  He  had  been  single  himself  once,  and  he 
knew  better.  However  such  abnormal  beings  might 
strive  to  disguise  it,  they  also  knew  well  enough  that 
marriage  was  the  great  desideratum  of  human  life, 
and  its  evasion  a  calamity.  The  delinquents  were  to 

216 


Adversity 


be  blamed  or  pitied.  If  Suzette  had  lost  her  heart 
to  some  irresponsive  fellow,  perversely  wasting  his 
opportunities,  her  case  was  of  the  pitiable  kind.  But, 
granting  this  for  purposes  of  argument,  the  case 
might  not  have  reached  an  incurable  stage.  The  fel 
low,  supposing  him  to  exist,  might  yet  be  induced  to 
see  the  error  of  his  ways.  Was  there  such  a  man? 
Did  Nina  know,  or  had  she  any  reason  to  suspect? 

Upon  this  Nina,  grown  suddenly  grave  again,  dis 
claimed  all  knowledge  of  the  point.  She  had  discussed 
these  matters  but  once  with  Suzette,  long  ago,  the 
evidence  at  that  time  being  purely  negative.  In  any 
event,  she  disapproved  of  interference;  match-making 
was  perilous  philanthropy.  Gordon,  taking  the  op 
posite  ground,  endeavored  lightly  to  prolong  the  argu 
ment,  but  with  small  success.  She  remained  serious 
and  unconvinced.  Then,  begging  the  question,  he 
maintained  that  observation,  at  least,  could  do  no 
harm.  Merely  for  his  own  enlightenment,  he  should 
study  Suzette  with  all  his  eyes  and  ears  to  discover 
what,  if  anything,  was  the  matter  with  her.  Would 
not  his  wife  help  him  out,  with  her  own  keener  in 
sight  and  better  opportunities?  Merely  to  enlighten 
him,  as  he  said  before, — he  liked  to  know  the  causes 
of  things. 

How  Nina  would  have  warded  off  this  thin  end  of 
the  wedge,  so  artfully  presented,  is  uncertain.  For 
at  that  moment  came  a  ring  at  the  door,  and  a  note 

217 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

was  brought  in, — a  note  written  upon  tinted  paper, 
bearing  a  golden  cipher,  and  addressed  in  a  strange 
hand  to  Mr.  Gordon  Wise.  So  suddenly  may  a  stroke, 
well-timed,  repair  the  fortunes  of  a  tottering  house. 
It  was  a  note  from  Madame  Stahlberg,  asking  for  a 
business  interview. 


218 


XVI 


FOR  many  days  after  the  grievous  misadventure 
into  which  his  fate  had  betrayed  him,  the  state 
of  Paul  Hemming's  mind  was  by  no  means  enviable. 
The  light  of  his  life  seemed  suddenly  extinguished, 
leaving  him  closely  akin  to  that  most  tedious  being, 
described  by  the  sage,  who  is  content  to  be  nothing,  or 
never  to  have  been.  At  times  he  persisted  in  regard 
ing  himself  as  the  innocent  victim  of  a  wrong  which 
could  be  set  right  with  a  single  word,  and  it  was  not 
the  least  of  his  afflictions  that  his  dreams  were  haunted 
continually  by  the  assurance  that  the  word  had  been 
spoken.  To  wake  was  to  recognize  very  speedily  not 
only  his  delusion,  but  also  the  folly  of  cherishing  those 
thoughts  which  induced  it;  since  in  his  more  rational 
moments  of  self-communion  it  remained  clear  that  his 
dismissal  had  been  definite  and  final.  Yet  the  allur 
ing  dream  recurred  repeatedly,  and  the  recognition  of 
its  fallacy  was  attended  with  increasing  bitterness  of 
spirit.  He  grew  depressed,  morose,  at  odds  with  all 
the  world.  But  if  there  survived  in  his  waking  hours 
any  lingering  hope  to  make  these  odds  all  even,  it  was 
cancelled,  at  last,  by  the  abrupt  catastrophe  to  the 

219 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

house  of  Wise.  He  knew  Nina  well  enough  to  con 
vince  himself  that  whatever  domestic  unhappiness  the 
future  appointed  for  her  would  now  be  faced  with  a 
patient  fortitude,  precluding  utterly  the  solution  by 
heroic  measures  which  he  so  desperately  had  urged. 
He  was  not  in  her  confidence,  and,  therefore,  not  in 
formed,  in  so  many  words,  that,  if  one  thing  were 
needed  to  confirm  irrevocably  her  resolve,  that  thing 
had  occurred.  But  he  was  neither  blind  nor  a  fool,  and 
could  divine,  at  least,  some  portion  of  the  truth.  The 
Gordian  knot  had  been  tightened  rather  than  unloosed 
by  a  stroke  of  adverse  fortune ;  and,  for  release,  even 
the  last  resort  of  Alexander  was  too  weak  an  instru 
ment  ;  only  the  sword  of  Azrael,  the  destroying  angel, 
could  cut  it  now. 

This  inevitable  conclusion  was  not  of  a  kind  to  raise 
Paul  Hemming's  spirits  at  a  single  bound.  On  the 
contrary,  its  first  result  was  to  plunge  him  deeper  into 
a  gloom  so  strangely  disheartening  as  to  bewilder  all 
his  friends  and  acquaintances.  From  being  at  variance 
with  the  world,  he  proceeded  to  withdraw  himself  from 
it  altogether.  Why  should  he  continue  to  frequent  the 
old  paths  which  had  no  longer  a  possible  outlet,  any 
where,  for  him?  He  disregarded  them  all,  to  become 
a  recluse ;  declaring,  when  open  remonstrance  inter 
posed  to  turn  him  from  this  new  course,  that  this  the 
exigencies  of  his  art  required.  He  had  weighed  the 
world,  and  found  it  wanting;  its  duties,  devices,  and 

2  2O 


Nature's  Kindly  Law 

pastimes  were  distasteful  to  him, — futile,  too,  since  he 
had  no  disposition  to  marry,  no  social  aims  whatever. 
His  sole  ambition  was  to  excel  in  his  chosen  field ;  and 
he  asked  no  more  than  to  be  permitted  to  cultivate  it 
in  the  way  which  seemed  best, — to  be  let  alone,  in 
short.  He  had  but  one  life  to  live. 

So  he  argued,  as  many  a  dispirited  lover  has  done 
before  him.  The  remonstrants,  tiring  of  vain  en 
deavor,  shrugged  their  shoulders,  and  passed  on,  leav 
ing  him  to  the  concentration  of  his  studio.  For  that, 
as  it  happened,  the  moment  could  not  have  been  better 
fitted.  He  had  work  already  in  progress,  other  work 
projected,  into  which  he  threw  himself  with  a  vigorous 
industry  which  soon  began  to  bear  fruit,  of  which  he 
had  never  dreamed.  The  resultant  examples  of  what, 
afterward,  was  called  his  second  period,  when  ex 
hibited  to  the  public,  received  unstinted  praise,  and 
were  sold  instantly,  upon  the  best  of  terms.  He  woke, 
literally,  one  morning  to  find  himself  famous, — more 
than  that,  to  find  that  the  art  which  had  been  his  safe 
guard  was  now  his  consolation. 

The  experience,  so  new  to  him  as  to  be  unaccount 
able,  is,  in  reality,  as  old  as  defeated  love  itself.  The 
weaker  natures,  only,  are  borne  down  by  passion, 
which,  as  a  wise  philosopher  has  pointed  out,  was  di 
vinely  meant  to  be  "  a  paroxysm — not  a  state."  He, 
who,  when  the  fit  is  on  him,  has  the  strength  to  sub 
due  it,  making  gain  of  loss,  works  out  his  own  salva- 

221 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

tion,  and  is  the  stronger  for  his  victory.  So  it  has 
ever  been,  so  it  will  ever  be,  while  our  poor  humanity, 
in  its  odd  jumble  of  component  parts,  retains  one  spark 
that  is  superhuman. 

The  natural  process,  in  such  a  case,  is  often  a  very 
slow  one.  And  in  the  present  instance,  as  has  been  ex 
plained,  it  was  not  only  slow,  but  complicated  also  by 
deviations,  apparently  extravagant  and  unreasonable. 
Through  them  all,  however,  a  peculiar  idiosyncrasy, 
tinged  with  remorse,  made  Hemming  appear  always  at 
his  best  to  Gordon  Wise.  They  met  less  frequently 
than  of  old.  Yet  whenever  they  were  thrown  together, 
the  painter,  with  him,  was  more  like  his  former  cheery 
self  than  with  anyone  else.  He  recognized  and  ap 
proved  the  courage  wherewith  his  comrade  of  earlier 
days  accepted  the  trying  reverses  which  had  befallen 
him.  And  striving  manfully  to  disguise  his  own  depth 
of  sorrow,  that  no  question  of  it  might  arise  between 
them,  he  exerted  himself  to  make  his  genuine  sympathy 
practical  and  helpful  in  all  which  was  actually  needed 
to  keep  the  old  friendly  relation  intact.  He  did  no  more 
than  this,  to  be  sure.  But  they  were  both  the  busiest  of 
men.  And  if  Gordon  sometimes  wondered  why  his 
friend  never  knocked  at  his  door,  the  thought  of  his 
own  labors  and  consequent  social  shortcomings  served 
at  once  to  dispel  any  gathering  doubt  upon  that  point. 
He  had  never  in  the  day  of  success  attached  much  im 
portance  to  superficial  forms  and  obligations.  Hem- 

222 


Nature's  Kindly  Law 

ming  was  up  to  his  eyes  in  work;  and  there  was 
abundant  evidence  of  a  loyalty  on  his  part  which  could 
afford  to  make  light  of  perfunctory  compliance  with 
the  laws  of  etiquette.  When  Hemming's  pictures  car 
ried  off  the  honors  at  the  Spring  Exhibition,  Wise  was 
among  the  first  to  congratulate  him  heartily  and  un 
reservedly. 

One  day,  when  these  honors  had  taken  effect  in  a  par 
tial  rearrangement  of  the  gallery,  Hemming,  going  in 
at  an  early  hour,  found  Suzette  Brinkley  there  alone. 
He  had  not  seen  her  for  months ;  but  he  ignored  that 
circumstance,  and,  with  ready  tact,  she,  too,  avoided 
any  hint  of  it.  They  fell  at  once  into  conversation,  and 
he  was  gratified  by  her  simple  frankness  and  cordiality. 
Sincerely  glad  to  see  him,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  make 
her  satisfaction  evident.  She  had  been  standing  before 
his  pictures,  which  now  were  given  a  panel  to  them 
selves.  But  he  led  her  away,  to  dwell  upon  the  good 
points  that  he  had  especially  noticed  in  work  of  other 
men.  These  were  many,  for  in  art  he  was  a  generous 
optimist.  Thus  they  made  slowly,  still  together  and  un 
interrupted,  the  circuit  of  the  rooms,  while  she  listened 
in  eager  attention,  or  commented  briefly  with  that  keen 
intelligence  which  he  so  well  remembered.  At  last, 
when  they  had  almost  reached  the  starting-place,  she 
moved  on  alone,  and,  stopping  before  his  own  group, 
studied  it  for  some  minutes  silently.  As  the  silence 
was  prolonged,  a  queer  embarrassment  overcame  him. 

223 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

He  drew  aside  and  apart,  in  a  kind  of  nervous  appre 
hension,  never  felt  before,  dreading  any  word  from  her 
but  the  right  one,  deprecating  even  that.  A  clock 
struck  in  the  anteroom  with  loud  insistence.  At  the 
sound  she  started,  turned  suddenly,  and  offering  him 
her  hand,  said,  in  a  low  voice :  "  I  did  not  know  it  was 
so  late.  Thank  you  a  thousand  times !  it  has  been  de 
lightful  to  see  you."  Their  hands  clasped  for  an  in 
stant,  and  in  the  next  she  was  gone,  hurrying  away 
brusquely,  timidly,  as  if  in  flight.  Her  words,  mere 
polite  formalities,  had  been  spoken  beside  the  purpose 
with  averted  eyes.  She  had  been  delighted  to  see  him, 
yet  had  taken  no  pains  to  bestow  upon  him,  at  parting, 
the  favor  of  a  look. 

Why?  he  wondered.  By  what  word  or  sign,  unin 
tentionally,  unconsciously,  had  he  wounded  her?  He 
could  recall  nothing, — nothing  but  silence.  Did  his 
labor  of  all  these  months  prove  so  disappointing,  then, 
that  she  could  not  conscientiously  commit  herself  even 
to  a  civil  phrase  regarding  it?  He  stared  at  his  can 
vases  reproachfully.  No !  surely,  they  were  not  so  bad 
as  that.  Perhaps,  in  saying  nothing,  he  had  seemed 
supercilious,  almost  antagonistic,  indifferent,  to  the 
point  of  unfriendliness.  Yet  one  could  scarcely  offend 
negatively  at  such  a  moment.  It  was  inconceivable ! 
Some  wave  of  feeling,  whose  drift  he  failed  to  follow, 
must  have  swept  through  her  mind  unexpectedly.  How 
should  he  expect  to  follow  it?  Women  were  erratic, 

224 


Nature's  Kindly  Law 

emotional  creatures,  governed  by  no  law  of  man's  de 
vising.  It  was  some  trifle,  born  of  nothing,  amounting 
to  nothing,  when  all  was  said  and  done.  Once  again, 
inconceivable,  that  was  all ! 

That  night  came  a  note  from  her, — a  short,  appar 
ently  a  hurried  one.  She  begged  his  pardon  for  ex 
treme  rudeness.  What  must  he  think  of  her?  And 
she  had  enjoyed  the  morning  with  him  so  much !  She 
had  tried  to  express  her  pleasure  in  his  work.  But 
praise  was  so  difficult,  poor,  and  feeble  in  its  terms,  at 
best.  Yet  he  must  have  seen — she  hoped  so,  at  least — 
that  she  liked  his  pictures  more  than  she  could  say. 

In  response  to  this  he  wrote  a  line  of  thanks.  Then, 
on  the  point  of  tearing  her  note  in  two,  he  changed  his 
mind,  and  put  it  carefully  away.  It  was  a  pleasant 
kind  of  note  to  receive,  worth  keeping,  perhaps,  in  re 
membrance  of  these  times,  when  they  should  have 
grown  old.  Miss  Brinkley  was  a  very  intelligent  girl, 
sympathetic,  with  a  gift  of  critical  appreciation.  He 
wished  that  he  might  see  her  oftener.  But  that  could 
hardly  be,  in  view  of  his  present  mode  of  life.  He  still 
refused  all  invitations,  lest  one,  leading  to  another, 
should  involve  him  in  the  social  meshes.  Yet  society, 
persistently  disregarding  this,  merely  spread  its  nets 
with  greater  cunning,  as  if  there  were  an  organized  at 
tempt  to  lure  him  back.  That,  however,  was  no  affair 
of  his.  He  need  but  remain  firm,  to  tire  out  these  in 
sinuating,  friendly  schemers.  It  suddenly  occurred  to 

225 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

him,  as  he  refolded  his  gentle  critic's  message  for  safe 
keeping,  that  the  Brinkleys  had  never  sought  by  word 
or  sign  to  change  his  purpose.  They,  with  whom,  for 
merly,  he  had  maintained  constant  terms  of  intimacy, 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  personal  interest  in  him.  He 
could  not  remember  when  he  had  been  asked  to  their 
house.  Was  it  that,  perceiving  his  inclination  to  avoid 
the  world,  they  respected  this,  and  left  him  religiously 
alone  from  the  kindest  of  motives?  Possibly.  Yet,  if 
that  were  all,  why  should  his  good  friend,  the  doctor, 
pass  him  in  the  street  with  the  merest  formal  saluta 
tion?  This  had  happened  once  or  twice,  when  he, 
himself,  would  willingly  have  stopped  and  spoken. 
And  now  that,  in  search  of  a  reason,  he  attached 
weight  to  the  trivial  circumstance,  it  happened  once 
again. 

This  last  encounter  followed  hard  upon  his  pleasant 
hour  with  Miss  Brinkley  in  the  picture  gallery.  What 
had  he  said  or  done  to  induce  coldness  so  marked  upon 
her  father's  part,  which,  clearly,  she  did  not  share? 
How,  inadvertently,  could  he  have  given  offence?  In 
vain  he  assured  himself  that  the  matter  was  of  little 
moment.  It  excited  his  curiosity,  and  stirred  him  to 
much  disquieting  speculation  that  could  not  be  verified, 
since  he  saw  nothing  of  her  or  any  of  the  family  for 
some  months,  during  which  the  summer  intervened, 
and  the  courses  of  their  lives  ran  no  longer  parallel. 
But,  in  the  late  autumn,  Mrs.  Brinkley  startled  him  by 

226 


Nature's  Kindly  Law 

a  cordial  invitation  to  dinner,  confuting  all  his  theories. 
He  had  given  no  offence,  then,  and  the  fancied  mal 
treatment  was  purely  accidental.  His  cloud  of  mis 
understanding  suddenly  cleared  away  in  a  most  satis 
factory  manner.  For  to  lose  an  old  friend  without 
just  cause  is  no  joke,  even  when  one  has  forsworn 
the  world.  He  was  strongly  tempted  to  break  his 
inexorable  rule  for  this  occasion  only.  But,  no !  The 
date  of  Mrs.  Brinkley's  dinner  was  three  weeks  off; 
this  meant  that  it  would  be  a  large  and  ceremonious 
one.  To  accept  would  signify  his  readiness,  if  not 
his  desire,  to  resume  the  yoke.  Once  there,  he  was 
lost.  In  society,  for  a  bachelor  of  acceptable  manners, 
there  can  be  no  sole  occasion,  no  temporizing,  no  half 
way  measures.  With  such  as  he,  it  is  all  or  nothing. 
He  would  not  yield !  He  did  not ;  but  declined  the  in 
vitation  with  elaborate  courtesy,  explaining  his  rea 
sons  for  rigid  adherence  to  an  established  principle. 
That  the  excuse  was  accepted  in  the  right  spirit  was 
soon  made  evident  by  a  second  note  from  Mrs.  Brink- 
ley,  expressing  sympathy  with  his  decision,  which  she 
found  entirely  reasonable.  Having  made  his  rule,  he 
must  follow  it,  and  she  should  be  the  last  to  urge  him 
otherwise.  Yet  they  wished  so  much  to  see  him,  that 
she  ventured  to  suggest  his  dining  with  them  quietly  in 
the  following  week,  behind  closed  doors,  so  to  speak. 
Both  the  doctor  and  Suzette  confidently  hoped  that  this 
mild  transgression,  if  transgression  it  were,  might  be 

227 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

judged  admissible.    She  promised  faithfully  that  there 
should  be  no  one  but  themselves. 

Thus  the  issue  was  evaded,  the  devil  whipped  round 
the  stump  triumphantly.  This  last  appeal  made  all 
but  imperative  a  favorable  answer,  which  was  given 
at  once ;  and,  on  the  night  appointed,  the  dinner  fol 
lowed  it.  O,  infinite  power  of  little  things !  A  pebble, 
rightly  dropped,  may  turn  a  river  from  its  course,  a 
mote  may  deflect  a  sunbeam !  In  the  great  march  of 
human  events  one  dinner,  more  or  less,  seems  to  go  for 
nothing.  Yet  that  night  was  destined  to  shine  out  ever 
more  in  Paul  Hemming's  memory  as  the  first  of  his 
regeneration. 


228 


XVII 

ADVENTURES   BRAVE   AND    NEW 

THE  new  phase  of  his  life  developed  so  gradually 
that  Paul  Hemming  was  slow  to  recognize  it. 
Yet,  finally  admitted,  the  change  seemed  to  him  all  the 
more  rational  from  its  steadily  increasing  force.  Hope 
had  stolen  a  march  upon  despair,  at  first  imperceptibly. 
When,  at  the  end,  despair  was  routed,  all  the  mourn 
ful  past  became  like  the  torment  of  a  dream.  He  had 
been  deluded,  mad ;  and  he  would  gladly  have  blotted 
from  the  calendar  every  pernicious  record  of  his  mor 
bid  state.  But  the  ghost,  though  no  longer  in  pos 
session,  was  not  entirely  laid.  Its  remembrance  haunted 
him  still.  It  had  dominated  him  once;  that  was  the 
painful  truth.  He  had  neither  the  power,  nor,  as  con 
science  admonished  him,  the  right  to  forget  the  sad 
condition. 

It  was  midwinter  before  he  fairly  knew  his  own 
mind,  and  found  himself  face  to  face  with  this  moral 
difficulty.  In  the  meantime,  hope  mocked  him  by  flat 
tering  signs,  some  of  which,  perhaps,  were  fanciful. 
Yet,  making  due  allowance  for  these,  he  still  felt 
assured  that  Suzette  Brinkley's  interest  in  him  had 
been  strongly  stimulated,  even  if  it  did  not  actually 

229 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

keep  pace  with  his  own  in  her.  That  she  liked  him  it 
was  easy  to  see.  What  deeper  feeling  could  a  self- 
respecting  girl  display  toward  any  man,  until  a  corre 
spondent  feeling  on  his  part  had  been  declared  ?  Was 
it  mere  fancy  that  some  disturbing  thought  weighed 
upon  her  in  his  presence  ?  He  hoped  not ;  and  at  the 
same  time  he  feared  to  be  told  that  the  thought  either 
was  non-existent,  or  that  it  sprang  not  from  the  much- 
desired  source,  but  simply  from  the  dread  of  provoking 
innocently  a  declaration  to  which  she  could  not  listen. 
That  small  dilemma,  however,  presents  itself  to  all 
suitors  ungifted  with  extraordinary  powers  of  inter 
pretation  and  prevision.  His  greater  problem  lay  in 
the  overshadowing  remembrance,  not  to  be  ignored, 
with  which  he  knew  not  how  to  deal. 

What  course  should  he  pursue?  The  hour  came 
when  further  delay  was  insupportable.  And,  forced 
to  a  decisive  step,  he  took  one  which  appeared  to  him, 
at  best,  of  doubtful  wisdom,  dangerous  perhaps,  yet 
surely  honorable.  He  went  to  Dr.  Brinkley,  and  laid 
the  case  before  him  with  the  utmost  frankness,  reveal 
ing  every  incident  of  his  affair  with  Nina  Wise,  ex 
tenuating  nothing,  taking  the  blame  upon  his  own 
shoulders ;  insisting  only  that  it  was  an  affair  of  the 
past,  to  which  had  succeeded  the  hope  he  longed  to 
prove.  He  begged  the  question  of  censure,  con 
demnation  even,  to  place  his  fate  entirely  in  the  doc 
tor's  hands.  Aware  of  the  great  risk  to  his  happiness 

230 


Adventures  Brave  and  New 

in  doing  this,  he  chose  deliberately  what  seemed,  con 
sidering  all  the  circumstances,  his  only  honest  way. 
Should  the  judgment  demanded  be  one  of  harsh  dis 
approval,  none  the  less  he  pledged  himself  to  abide  by 
it.  In  that  event,  his  last  word  had  been  spoken. 

Hemming  could  not  sufficiently  admire  the  self-con 
trol  of  his  chosen  arbitrator.  Displaying  neither  aston 
ishment  nor  surprise,  the  doctor  heard  him  out;  then 
studied  him  calmly  for  a  moment  with  unclouded  eyes, 
professional  in  their  keenness,  yet  not  unfriendly. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  yourself,  my  boy  ?  "  he  asked ; 
"  sure,  I  mean,  that  the  old  desire  is  really  dead,  that 
the  second  hope  is  strong  enough  to  hold  and  last  ?  Re 
member,  this  is  a  question  not  of  hours  and  days  and 
weeks,  but  of  a  lifetime." 

"  I  understand !  "  sighed  Hemming.  "  That  you 
should  doubt  me  is  not  strange ;  it  would  be  strange, 
indeed,  if  you  did  not.  But  in  my  mind  there  is  no 
doubt  whatever.  I  am  as  sure  as, — as  a  man  can  be." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  you,"  returned  the  doctor,  emphat 
ically.  "  On  the  contrary,  I  trust  you,  as  you  have 
trusted  me ;  and  I  thank  you  for  your  confidence.  It  is 
the  strongest  possible  guarantee  of  good  faith,  and,  as 
such,  stands  accepted.  If  my  daughter  loves  you,  well 
and  good !  I  shall  only  approve,  and  be  glad.  I  can 
not  answer  for  her.  She  must  speak  for  herself,  when 
you  have  spoken." 

Hearing  this,  Hemming  could  hardly  believe  his 
231 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

ears.  He  had  come,  not  merely  to  present  his  cause, 
but  to  plead  it  manfully  in  the  face  of  opposition.  And, 
already,  so  far  as  this  formidable  opponent  went,  the 
cause  was  won. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  he  stammered,  "  that  you  will  not 
object?  That  I  have  your  leave  to  go  on?  " 

"  By  all  means !  "  replied  Dr.  Brinkley,  offering  his 
hand  with  a  smile.  "  When,  where,  and  how  you 
please !  " 

Hemming  grasped  the  hand  gratefully,  and  for  a 
moment  was  unable  to  speak.  The  doctor's  reassuring 
look  changed,  meanwhile,  from  quiet  amusement  to 
satisfaction.  Putting  himself  in  the  other's  place,  he 
lived  over  again  a  supreme  moment  of  his  own  youth, 
when  he,  too,  had  been  speechless.  The  agitated  pause 
was  not  only  entirely  natural,  but  also  a  further  proof, 
if  any  were  needed,  of  sincerity. 

"  The  sooner  the  better,  then  !  "  continued  Hemming, 
with  emotional  abruptness.  "  I  will  go  to  Miss  Brink- 
ley  and  explain  the  situation,  as  I  have  explained  it  to 
you." 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Not  the  whole 
of  it,  I  suppose,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  all,— from  first  to  last.    Why  not?  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  the  impulse  does  you  credit.  But 
I  am  not  sure  that  such  a  course  would  be  altogether 
wise.  Women  are  not  men,  remember  that.  They  have 
natures  finer  than  ours,  yet  narrower.  Lacking  our  ex- 

232 


Adventures  Brave  and  New 

perience,  they  lack  our  tolerance,  too.  We  must  con 
cede  something  to  their  views  of  life,  and  treat  them 
tenderly." 

"  Tenderly,  but  fairly,"  Hemming  insisted.  "  In  so 
grave  a  matter  as  this,  if  in  nothing  else,  I  must  be  open 
and  above-board." 

"  No  law  of  fairness  compels  a  man  to  do  himself 
an  injury,"  objected  the  doctor.  "  Deal  with  the  pres 
ent  as  openly  as  you  please,  and  pledge  the  future,  if 
you  will,  to  all  eternity.  But,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't 
rake  up  needlessly  any  ashes  of  the  past,  as  you  have 
done  for  me !  They  are  dead  and  cold !  " 

Hemming  shook  his  head.  "  You  seem  to  forget," 
said  he,  "  that  it  is  a  woman  with  whom  I  have  to  deal ; 
sooner  or  later  the  past,  inevitably,  must  be  called  in 
question." 

"  Let  it  be  later,  then, — when  the  times  have  changed, 
changing  the  face  of  nature ;  when  your  happiness  is 
secure  beyond  all  question ;  and  not  now." 

"  Beyond  all  question !  "  repeated  Hemming,  doubt 
fully.  "  Why,  who  can  tell  how  soon  this  one  will 
come  up  ?  Surely,  I  shall  do  better  to  forestall  it.  Sup 
pose,  for  instance,  that  I  were  called  to  account  at 
once, — to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Even  so,  you  need  give  but  the  vaguest  answer, 
avoiding  details,  or,  at  least,  postponing  them.  There 
can  be  no  harm  in  that.  Trust  me,  it  is  wiser." 

"  No !  "  said  Hemming,  after  a  moment's  thought. 
233 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

"  My  dear  boy,  don't  be  rash !  "  the  doctor  urged. 
"  Don't  do  what  you  may  long  to  undo,  an  instant  after ! 
Suzette  is  the  best  and  sweetest  girl  in  the  world,  but 
I  understand  her  better  than  you  do.  Who  knows  how 
this  will  affect  her,  what  strange  turn  her  woman's  will 
may  take  ?  Not  I !  Let  her  once  make  up  her  mind, 
and  neither  you  nor  I  can  change  it.  The  devil,  him 
self,  couldn't!  The  risk  you  run  is  infinite.  Think 
twice  before  you  speak !  " 

"  No !  "  returned  Hemming,  stoutly.  "  In  this  case, 
first  thoughts  are  best, — for  me,  the  only  ones !  " 

"  Well,  if  you  must  charge  at  windmills,  Heaven  help 
you !  I  can't." 

"  I  don't  want  help,  but  your  good-will !  "  protested 
Hemming,  holding  out  his  hand,  to  close  the  interview. 
"  And  that  I  have  already.  Thanks  for  your  advice ; 
even  though,  for  once,  it  should  be  disregarded." 

The  doctor  grasped  his  hand  mechanically.  "  Once 
again,  I  beg  you  to  reconsider  this !  " 

But,  once  again,  Hemming  declined  to  yield.  "  Pray 
for  me !  "  he  said,  inflexibly ;  and  was  gone. 

"  Quixotic !  "  cried  Dr.  Brinkley,  as  the  office-door 
closed  upon  his  refractory  patient.  "  Quixotic !  "  he 
repeated,  pacing  the  room  feverishly.  "  That  is  the 
only  word  for  him !  Yet,  I  believe  I  like  him  all  the 
better  for  it.  Damn  me,  if  he  isn't  more  than  half  right, 
after  all!" 


234 


XVIII 

UNDER   THE   ROSE 

THE  next  twenty-four  hours,  for  Dr.  Brinkley, 
were  as  uncomfortable  as  any  that  he  had  ever 
known.  They  were  hours  of  suspense  and  of  irresolu 
tion, — that  most  wretched  of  states  to  a  determined 
man,  who  commonly  chooses  his  course  and  follows  it 
with  dogged  persistence,  whether  it  be  disagreeable  or 
otherwise.  Now,  almost  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he 
found  himself  incapable  of  choosing.  That  Hemming 
would  proceed  at  once  with  his  threatened  explanation 
to  Suzette  he  did  not  doubt.  For  one  moment,  it  seemed 
best  to  come  between  them,  and,  appearing  inop 
portunely,  to  insist  that  all  disclosures  made  to  her 
should  take  place  in  his  presence.  Next,  he  discarded 
this  plan,  as  ill-judged;  and  determined,  by  seeking  his 
wife's  counsel,  to  throw  the  whole  responsibility  of  in 
tervention  upon  her  shoulders.  But  he  hesitated  to  do 
this,  for  two  reasons.  Either  she  would  insist  upon 
the  scheme  of  rash  interference,  which,  as  he  began  to 
fear,  might  endanger  Hemming's  cause,  if  not  ruin  it 
altogether;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  she  would  decide 
that  the  better  way  was  simply  to  await  developments ; 
in  which  case  nothing  could  be  gained  by  telling  her ; 

235 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

while,  on  the  contrary,  if  he  said  nothing,  letting  events 
take  their  course,  much  distress  of  mind  would  be 
spared  her  by  the  delay  of  a  few  hours.  There  was 
safety  in  inaction.  But  when  the  comfortable  dictum 
had  been  formulated,  upon  the  instant,  the  subject  pre 
sented  itself  in  a  new  light,  and  indecision  began  again. 
That  Mrs.  Brinkley  liked  Hemming,  and  would  look 
with  favor  upon  his  suit,  the  doctor  knew.  This  was 
the  thing  of  all  others  which  she  desired  most ;  further 
more,  she  had  desired  it  for  a  long  time.  When  its 
possibility  first  occurred  to  her,  the  doctor,  who  now 
wished  for  a  successful  issue  as  ardently  as  she,  had 
thrown  cold  water  upon  her  pious  stratagems  for  pro 
moting  it.  He  was  discovered  to  be  obstinately  and 
aggressively  sceptical ;  doubting,  in  the  first  place,  that 
his  daughter's  interest  tended  toward  Hemming  at  all ; 
second,  granting  such  interest  for  the  sake  of  argument, 
that  it  was  more  than  a  passing  fancy.  Moreover, 
upon  shadowy  grounds  of  his  own  which  he  did  not 
define,  he  refused  to  believe  that  a  reciprocal  interest 
had  arisen  upon  Hemming's  part, — nay,  even  that  the 
thought  thereof  had  ever  crossed  the  painter's  mind. 
In  this  state  of  unbelief,  he  not  only  raised  objections 
to  open  encouragement  on  their  side,  but  he  also  put 
his  foot  down  firmly,  as  he  said,  against  any  advance 
whatsoever.  Now,  the  putting  down  of  the  doctor's 
foot  was  a  very  serious  affair,  which  had  happened  but 
a  few  times  in  the  world's  experience ;  and  none  knew 

236 


Under  the  Rose 

that  better  than  his  wife.  Yet,  for  once,  she  resisted 
the  significant  procedure;  desperately  arguing,  that 
since  a  certain  young  man  and  a  certain  young  woman, 
caught  in  the  same  social  current,  were  more  than 
likely  to  meet  now  and  then,  their  place  of  meeting  did 
not  matter.  What  harm  could  there  be  in  guiding  the 
current  quietly,  just  a  little?  in  inviting  the  young  man 
to  dinner  once  in  a  very  great  while,  for  instance,  with 
other  young  men  and  women  ?  But  that  was  precisely 
the  kind  of  instance  at  which  the  doctor  bristled.  That 
would  be  an  advance.  The  young  man  might  dine  else 
where  if  he  liked,  and  make  any  advance  of  his  own 
that  he  saw  fit;  when  his  forward  step  was  plainly 
demonstrated,  well  and  good;  until  then,  he  should 
neither  be  goaded  nor  decoyed. 

Vainly,  for  some  months,  Mrs.  Brinkley  returned  to 
the  charge  again  and  again,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  The 
foot,  having  been  firmly  planted,  was  neither  to  be 
stirred  nor  shaken.  In  consequence,  she  was  unable 
to  learn,  and  the  inability  distressed  her  much,  that 
the  young  man  and  woman, — whom,  already,  with  no 
warrant  whatever,  she  denominated  "  the  lovers," — 
were  in  the  way  of  meeting  from  one  month's  end  to  the 
other.  Thus,  at  this  time,  affairs  remained  at  a  dead 
lock.  And,  while  it  lasted,  if  the  good  doctor  went  a 
little  farther  than  he,  himself,  intended, — even  so  far 
as  to  pass  Hemming  in  the  street  brusquely,  with  con 
straint, — the  error  was  due  to  conscientious  scruples. 

237 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

He  had  laid  down  the  law,  and  must  avoid  even  an  ap 
pearance  of  disregarding  it. 

Suddenly,  unaccountably  to  Mrs.  Brinkley,  the  high 
injunction  was  annulled.  One  fine  autumn  morning, 
when  she  ventured  to  hint  that  because  of  a  small,  un 
reasonable  impediment, — namely,  the  foot,  before  men 
tioned, — they  were  all  to  live  and  die  unhappy,  she  was 
told,  to  her  joy,  that  there  might  be  just  one  chance 
among  a  thousand  in  favor  of  her  preposterous  views. 
If  she  cared  to  take  the  chance,  to  try  her  little  experi 
ment  upon  a  foundation  so  slight  in  its  nature,  she  was 
at  liberty  to  proceed  with  it.  The  doctor,  with  adroit 
dissimulation,  craftily  appeared  to  concede  the  in 
finitesimal  point  after  long  and  painful  study  of  the 
case  in  all  its  bearings.  The  concession,  in  reality,  was 
nearly  coincident  with  Nina's  disclosure  to  him,  of 
which  his  wife  knew  nothing,  of  which,  indeed,  she 
might  never  hear,  since  he  regarded  it  as  a  professional 
secret.  Hard  upon  this,  almost  as  the  night  the  day, 
followed  Mrs.  Brinkley 's  first  invitation  to  dinner  and 
its  refusal ;  then,  the  second  attempt,  which,  more  fortu 
nate,  was  the  means  of  luring  her  reluctant  guest  back 
into  the  world. 

And  now  that  his  wife's  little  experiment,  so  far  as 
Hemming  was  concerned,  had  not  failed,  but  succeeded, 
the  doctor  stood,  figuratively,  upon  pins  and  needles; 
longing  to  pursue  it  to  the  end,  yet  dreading  the  false 
step  that  would  ruin  all,  he  watched  and  waited,  in 

238 


Under  the  Rose 

acute  nervous  tension,  most  unlike  himself.  He  had 
inferred,  not  unnaturally,  that  the  strong  purpose  to 
which  Hemming  was  committed  must  sweep  to  its  ful 
filment  with  the  least  possible  delay.  And,  accustomed 
to  read  hearts  in  faces,  he  studied  those  familiar  to 
him,  sure  of  detecting  instantly  the  first  morbid  or  ab 
normal  sign.  But,  at  dinner  that  night,  he  found  not 
the  slightest  trace  of  domestic  upheaval.  Suzette  was 
in  her  wonted  spirits ;  his  wife,  if  he  were  any  judge, 
had  no  extraordinary  weight  upon  her  mind.  Nothing 
stirred  the  tranquil  air,  until  his  own  suppressed  ex 
citement  betrayed  him  into  solecisms  of  the  table ;  and, 
even  these,  at  first,  passed  all  unheeded.  No  one  ob 
served,  as  he  was  thankful  to  see,  that  he  attacked  his 
soup  with  a  fork;  or  that,  after  crumbling  his  bread 
to  powder,  he  tossed  a  pinch  of  it  over  his  left  shoulder. 
But,  when,  in  one  moment,  he  upset  the  salt,  and,  in  the 
next,  prepared  to  drench  the  shining  heap  with  the  con 
tents  of  his  claret  glass,  a  shriek  stayed  his  hand.  He 
turned  the  leg  of  mutton  the  wrong  way,  and  butchered 
it  like  a  young  bridegroom  ;  said  "  no  "  when  he  meant 
"  yes,"  or  vice  versa ;  begged  to  have  each  question 
which  was  put  to  him  repeated ;  and  lapsed,  with 
wrinkled  brows,  into  such  strange  fits  of  abstraction 
that  his  wife  demanded  an  account  of  them  more  than 
once.  He  assured  her  that  his  mind  was  as  empty  as  an 
egg-shell,  and,  for  a  time,  counterfeited  this  blissful 
state  of  it  so  well  that  she  was  half  deceived.  Later, 

239 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

when  they  were  alone,  the  discovery  that  his  mind  was 
not  empty,  but  absent,  provoked  her  to  frequent  ques 
tioning.  "  Why,  George,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 
she  asked,  repeatedly ;  to  receive  always  the  same  an 
swer  :  "  Nothing !  "  He  passed  a  wretched  night,  op 
pressed  with  nightmares.  And,  in  the  morning,  still 
gloomily  distraught,  when  Mrs.  Brinkley,  again  seek 
ing  a  cause,  hinted  at  some  unusual  professional 
anxiety,  he  yielded  to  suggestion.  He  had  a  busy  day 
before  him, — that  was  all ! 

Providentially  for  Dr.  Brinkley,  this  statement, 
framed  to  mislead,  was  literally  true.  His  profession, 
as  it  happened,  made  such  demands  upon  him  in  the 
next  few  hours  that  he  could  devote  but  a  casual  con 
jecture,  now  and  then,  to  the  possible  course  of  affairs 
at  home.  He  was  summoned  this  way  and  that  into 
remote  parts  of  the  city  where  urgent  need  required 
the  close  concentration  of  mind  which  is  the  physician's 
second  nature,  which  now,  from  sheer  force  of  habit, 
made  everything  subservient  to  it.  The  critical  mo 
ment,  excluding  personal  considerations,  became  all- 
in-all  to  him.  Not,  indeed,  until  the  long  succession 
of  tasks  was  entirely  over,  and  he  turned  his  face 
homeward  in  the  winter  twilight,  did  he  begin  to  feel 
the  weight  of  his  individual  burden,  to  realize  that  a 
bad  day  had  followed  a  bad  night;  that,  tired  and 
worried  as  he  was,  the  thought  of  what  he  had  most 
at  heart  afforded  him  neither  rest  nor  consolation. 

240 


Under  the  Rose 

He  longed  to  stop  a  moment  by  the  way,  to  forget  his 
professional  and  private  cares,  if  only  for  the  moment, 
in  congenial  companionship,  not  too  intimate, — that 
of  acquaintances  rather  than  friends.  The  lights  of 
his  club  diffused  warmly  a  sign  of  welcome,  and,  turn 
ing  in  there,  he  found  precisely  what  he  sought, — the 
fire,  the  easy-chair,  the  cheery,  good-natured  souls 
disposed  to  talk  lightly.  This  change  of  atmosphere 
proved  instantly  refreshing.  He  caught  the  note,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  grew  as  merry  as  the  best  of  them. 
That  was  the  way  to  look  at  things!  So,  when  the 
medicine  had  done  its  work,  he  prepared  to  go  on; 
and  then,  in  the  hall,  ran  straight  into  the  arms  of 
Paul  Hemming. 

He  drew  the  painter  aside  into  a  small  reception- 
room,  where  they  were  quite  alone. 

"  Well,  what  has  happened?  "  he  asked,  under  his 
breath. 

"  Nothing  yet.     At  least,  nothing  that  I  know  of; 
I  can't  be  sure." 

"What  do  you  mean?    You  have  not  spoken?" 
"  No.     You  see,  I  decided  to  write  instead." 
"To  write?     What,  where,  how?" 

"  I  sat  up  half  the  night  over  it.     And  then 

"You  sent  it?    When?    Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
Suzette  had  received  it  this  morning? " 

"  No.    I  thought  that  I  had  better  deliver  it  myself. 
But,  unfortunately,  Miss  Brinkley  was  not  at  home. 

241 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

I  have  just  left  the  letter  at  your  door,  a  quarter  of 
an   hour  ago." 

"Ah!"  sighed  the  doctor.  "She  has  received  it, 
then,  by  this  time!"  And  he  pulled  out  his  watch 
as  if  to  verify  the  assertion.  "  What  did  you  say  in 
it?  Tell  me  quickly, — everything." 

11  That  was  exactly  what  I  told  her, — everything. 
I  made  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  business — the 
worst  case  possible  for  me  at  first,  then  the  best  one ! 
I  said  that  it  was  all  over,  that  I  loved  her, — her  only 
— honestly,  devotedly;  in  fact,  I  repeated  all  I  said  to 
you.  And  I  begged  her  not  to  write  an  answer  at 
once;  indeed,  there  would  hardly  be  time  for  that— 
"Hardly  time?  Why?  I  don't  understand  you." 
"  Because  we  are  to  meet  this  very  night  at  Bar- 
rington's.  Everyone  is  going  there,  you  know.  It 
is  a  great  night.  Stahlberg  is  to  sing." 

"Yes,  yes;  I  had  forgotten.     She  means  to  go." 
;'  There  would  be  no  time,  you  see,  for  a  letter  be 
tween  now  and  then.    I  begged  only  for  a  word, — not 
written,  not  spoken,  either, — except  by  a  sign." 
"A   sign?"   the   doctor  repeated.     "What  sign?" 
"  I  told  her  if  she  could  forgive  the  past  and  trust 
the  future,  if  she  thought  that  she  could   ever  care 
for  me, — not  now,  perhaps,  but  later, — if  there  were 
any  hope,  in  short,  merely  to  wear  a  rose  in  her  hair; 
that  at  Barrington's  I  should  watch  and  wait  for  her 
to  come, — should  understand,  should  know." 

242 


Under  the  Rose 

The  doctor,  with  a  despairing  look,  buttoned  his 
coat  about  him.  "I  see!"  he  muttered.  "The  mis 
chief  is  done,  the  murder's  out, — definitely.  You  have 
put  it  all  into  her  hands." 

"As  it  should  be!"  replied  Hemming,  with  an 
emphasis.  "  Where  else  would  you  have  me  put  it?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  the  helpless  answer.  "  I  can 
only  hope  that  good  will  come  of  it.  You  know  how 
much  I  hope  that,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Hemming,  grasping  the  outstretched 
hand.  "  I  know."  And  so  they  parted. 

The  doctor  hurried  home  in  the  dusk,  overcome 
with  apprehension.  Opening  the  outer  door  quietly, 
he  stole  into  his  house  like  a  thief.  One  of  the  ser 
vants  crossed  the  hall  at  that  moment,  and  he  put  a 
simple  question  to  her  as  calmly  as  he  could. 

"  Has  Miss  Suzette  come  in?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  sir ;  not  yet,"  the  maid  informed  him.  And, 
as  she  spoke,  he  saw  upon  the  table  a  letter  addressed 
to  Miss  Brinkley, — Hemming's. 

The  girl  moved  off,  with  no  thought  beyond  her 
immediate  duties.  And,  catching  up  the  letter,  the 
doctor  passed  into  his  waiting-room,  which  adjoined 
the  hall  at  the  front  of  the  house.  Behind  this  was  the 
office,  with  a  connecting  door,  half  open;  another  door, 
open,  too,  led  from  the  office  into  the  hall  at  the  back. 
Both  rooms  were  empty.  The  doctor  made  a  circuit 
of  them,  turning  up  the  lights  and  closing  all  the  doors 

243 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

carefully;  then  he  paced  the  outer  room,  holding  the 
sealed  letter  in  his  hand. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  Almost  immediately  Su- 
zette's  key  turned  in  the  lock.  He  peered  out  upon 
her  mysteriously,  and  beckoned  her  in. 

"Why,  papa,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  she 
inquired,  when  they  stood  alone  together  behind  the 
closed  doors.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  cold,  and 
she  put  up  her  muff  to  warm  them.  She  had  never 
looked  better  in  her  life,  as  he  thought.  He  did  not 
wonder  that  the  men  wanted  to  marry  her;  the  wonder 
was  that  she  had  resisted  them  so  long. 

"  I  have  a  letter  for  you,"  he  said,  struggling  for  self- 
control.  "  It  is  from  Mr.  Hemming, — Paul  Hem 
ming,  the  painter.  He  wants  to  marry  you." 

For  an  instant  the  color  left  her  face,  which  flushed 
again  in  the  next,  not  with  cold. 

"  Oh,  papa!  "  she  gasped,  steadying  herself  with  the 
back  of  a  chair,  and  sinking  into  it.  "  He  has  written 
to  you?  " 

The  doctor  gave  her  a  moment  to  recover,  and  then, 
planting  himself  before  the  fire,  went  on,  in  a  firmer 
voice.  "  Not  to  me.  It  is  to  you  that  he  writes.  But 
he  has  told  me  the  contents  of  the  letter.  He  con 
sulted  me,  believing  this  to  be  the  time  for  frankness, 
desiring  to  withhold  nothing,  to  inform  me,  as  well 
as  you,  of  an  earlier  attachment  which,  for  a  while, 
hampered  him.  It  was  a  most  unfortunate  affair,  but 

244 


Under  the  Rose 

it  happened  long  ago,  and,  fortunately,  is  now  all  over. 
If  there  was  blame  on  both  sides,  there  remains,  also, 
on  both  sides  the  credit  of  passing  through  a  great 
trial  honorably,  nobly  even,  as  a  right-minded  man 
and  woman  should.  It  is  over,  I  repeat,  happily  over, 
and  he  loves  you  now  with  all  his  heart  and  soul.  I 
am  sure  of  that, — so  sure  that  I  opposed  the  impulse 
to  make  to  you  his  full  confession.  He  could  not  be 
content  without  it.  Here  in  this  letter  he  tells  you  the 
whole  story.  When  you  have  read  it  be  reasonable, 
and  judge  him  fairly." 

She  took  the  letter,  turning  it  over  and  over  in  her 
tremulous  hands,  and,  avoiding  his  eyes,  fixed  hers  at 
last  upon  its  unbroken  seal. 

"He  did  not  show  it  to  you?"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  inquiringly. 

"  No,  my  dear.  But  he  has  told  me  everything. 
And  I  ought  to  say,  first,  that  he  is  a  thorough  gen 
tleman  ;  next,  that  if,  after  reading  this,  you  can  ap 
prove  his  honesty,  can  believe  in  him  and  care  for  him, 
nothing  would  delight  me  more.  Beyond  this  I  do 
not  seek  to  influence  your  decision.  You  are  account 
able  to  yourself,  to  him,  not  to  me.  But,  as  you  will 
see,  he  expects  no  answer, — at  least,  none  now." 

She  flashed  upon  him  a  look  of  surprise,  then  looked 
away  again,  back  at  the  letter. 

"No  answer!"  she  repeated. 

"  None — I  mean  in  words.  He  is  going  to  the  Bar- 
245 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

ringtons'  to-night;  he  will  be  waiting  for  you.  And 
he  asks  you,  as  you  will  see,  to  wear  a  rose  in  your 
hair  should  there  be  any  hope  for  him.  That  is  all." 

The  letter  dropped  into  her  lap.  She  leaned  back 
in  her  chair,  with  hands  tightly  clasped,  and  stared 
at  the  fire  during  a  few  seconds  of  silence,  which  to 
the  doctor  seemed  interminable.  The  pause  was 
broken  by  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  hall.  He 
crossed  to  the  door,  and  opened  it  an  inch  or  two, 
when  the  maid  knocked.  A  patient,  as  it  appeared, 
demanded  advice  at  this  awkward  moment,  and,  in  a 
whispered  word,  was  consigned  to  the  inner  room. 

He  shut  the  door  gently,  and,  coming  back,  looked 
down  at  her. 

"  I  must  go,"  he  said.  "  But  I  cannot  help  you 
further.  No  one  can  do  that.  You  must  decide  this 
question  yourself.  Read  and  consider  it  carefully. 
I  ask  no  more,  but  shall  abide  by  your  judgment, 
whichever  way  it  goes." 

She  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him, 
but  did  not  speak;  nor  did  she  rise.  At  the  office-door 
he  looked  back  at  her.  She  had  taken  up  the  letter, 
and  was  turning  it  over  and  over  in  her  hands. 

The  great  night  had  come,  and  the  world  seemed 
well  aware  of  it.  The  Barrington  house  glowed  with 
light  and  color,  while  the  guests  slowly  gathered  in 
small  groups  about  the  stately  rooms  as  the  appointed 

246 


Under  the  Rose 

hour  drew  near.  Paul  Hemming,  arriving  early,  as 
sured  himself  in  one  rapid  glance  that  Miss  Brinkley 
was  not  there  before  him.  He  hovered  restlessly  back 
and  forth,  greeting  his  friends  with  a  hurried  word ; 
then  moving  on,  determined  to  avoid  entanglements, 
committed  to  the  outskirts,  at  least  for  a  time.  As 
the  throng  increased,  making  his  line  of  action  pro 
portionately  easier  to  follow,  his  self-engrossment 
passed  unnoticed.  Someone  handed  him  a  pro 
gramme  ;  and,  withdrawing  into  a  corner  to  study  it, 
he  observed  with  surprise  and  pleasure  that  the  first 
group  of  songs  was  entirely  made  up  from  the  work 
of  Gordon  Wise.  In  a  certain  sense  this  might  be 
called  his  night,  then;  and,  even  through  his  own 
anxiety,  Hemming  could  realize  perfectly  all  that  the 
compliment  must  mean  to  the  struggling  composer, 
and  rejoice  at  it.  Presently  the  music-room  doors 
were  thrown  open,  and  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
satisfaction  in  Gordon's  face  as  the  crowd  swept  along. 
There,  too,  was  Gordon's  wife, — paler,  thinner  than 
of  old,  but,  clearly,  proud  and  happy.  At  that  moment 
she  turned  Hemming's  way,  met  his  look  across  the  in 
tervening  distance,  bowed  and  smiled,  then  went  on 
out  of  sight  to  the  place  reserved  for  her.  The  large 
room  filled  up,  leaving  the  outer  one  empty,  except 
for  a  few  men — the  usual  rear-gard  of  stragglers 
in  the  doorway,  where  Hemming  might  now  have 
become  conspicuous  had  there  been  anyone  disposed 

247 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

to  heed  his  frequent  changes  of  position,  his  wander 
ing  lapses  toward  the  staircase  up  which  she  must 
pass  if  she  were  coming  at  all.  There  was  a  stir 
within;  a  silence.  Then  the  opening  quartette  began. 
He  did  not  hear  it ;  he  only  knew  that  there  had  been 
music  by  the  storm  of  applause  when  it  had  ended. 
Another  stir  followed ;  louder  and  louder  applause,  al 
most  a  shout  of  welcome,  and,  looking  in,  he  saw  the 
great  singer  in  her  place.  "  Mein  Lieb,  wir  sollen 
Beide  elend  sein."  Gordon's  song,  of  course.  Absit 
omen!  Why  need  she  have  begun  with  that? 

The  song  went  on  until  Hemming  could  not  bear  it. 
He  stole  away  across  the  vacant  room,  out  into  the 
staircase-hall,  where  he  was  still  happily,  mercifully 
alone.  Only  the  music  followed  him,  with  its  haunt 
ing,  sad  refrain.  "  My  love,  we  two  live  evermore 
forlorn."  He  leaned  upon  the  stair-rail,  prepared  for 
flight.  He  could  go  now,  and  none  would  be  the 
wiser.  Why  should  he  wait  a  moment  longer?  She 
did  not  intend  to  meet  him,  evidently.  He  had  her 
answer.  She  was  not  coming,  after  all! 

He  looked  down  over  the  wide  sweep  of  staircase, 
softly  carpeted,  hung  with  splendid  tapestries.  And, 
suddenly,  noiselessly,  came  gliding  up  into  the  light 
one  slender  figure.  She  wore  white,  trailing  behind 
her  in  graceful,  silken  folds,  and  in  her  hair  a  rose! 


248 


XIX 

POSTSCRIPTUM 

"  I  CHOUGH  the  end  of  August  drew  near  and  the 
•*•  autumnal  rains  had  already  set  in  fiercely,  turn 
ing  the  ebb-tide  of  travel  definitely  southward,  there 
was  unwonted  stir  in  the  inn  of  the  Leon  Bianco,  under 
San  Gimignano's  towers.  For  the  friendly  pittore 
artista,  who,  four  years  ago,  had  remained  there  so 
long  upon  terms  of  familiar  intercourse  which  aroused 
keen  interest  in  his  fortunes,  had  come  again, — bringing 
his  bride  with  him.  Immediately  after  their  marriage 
in  the  month  of  June  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hemming  went 
abroad  for  a  prolonged  honeymoon,  to  pass  some 
weeks  in  the  Tyrol;  thence,  coming  down  over  the 
Italian  border,  to  linger  for  a  while  in  Venice;  then, 
crossing  the  Lombard  plain,  to  wander  on  through 
certain  Tuscan  by-ways,  which  Suzette  did  not  know, 
which  Paul  longed  to  show  her.  So  they  had  travelled 
far,  by  easy  stages,  now  in  the  railway,  now  upon  the 
post-road;  had  seen  the  frieze  of  Pistoia,  and  Cortona's 
muse;  had  strolled  through  the  chestnut  wood  at  the 
Baths  of  Lucca,  along  its  foamy  torrent;  or  up  the 
endless  slopes,  where  sunlit  fountains  splash,  in  laugh 
ing  Arezzo.  Finally,  from  the  busy  streets  of  Siena 

249 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

and  the  martial  music  of  its  garrison,  they  had  driven 
miles  away  between  the  vine-garlands  to  this  quiet  hill 
top  whose  thirteen  campanili,  at  the  first  distant  aspect, 
had  been  compared  by  Suzette  to  so  many  long 
needles  stuck  irregularly  in  a  green  cushion.  The  day, 
following  a  storm,  was  unexpectedly  fine.  And  here 
were  the  walls,  the  bastions,  the  rough,  tortuous 
streets  still  unspoiled,  unchanged,  even  in  the  smallest 
degree, — looking  just  as  Hemming  had  left  them. 
Raffaella,  the  daughter  of  the  house,  recognizing  him 
instantly,  had  declared  that  he,  too,  was  unchanged. 
Nay,  he  was  changed  very  much, — very  much  for  the 
better,  as  he  had  responded,  presenting  to  her  his  wife. 
Then,  growing  suddenly  serious,  she  had  congratulated 
him  formally,  and  rushed  on  before  him  to  apprise  the 
household. 

Here  was  the  huge,  bare,  lofty  sola  da  pranzo,  where 
his  drawing  of  Raffaella,  framed  and  glazed,  hung  in 
the  place  of  honor.  Suzette,  proceeding  to  examine  it 
minutely,  discovered  that  the  model  had  changed,  if 
not  the  painter;  there  were  new  lines  in  her  face;  she 
had  grown  old  already,  as  Italian  maidens  will.  They 
wondered  if  she  had  been  married  to  her  lover — the 
soldier  of  whom  Paul  had  spoken.  While  she  set  the 
table  Hemming  inquired  for  him. 

"  E  morto,  Signore,"  she  said,  simply. 

"Dead?" 

"  Yes,  Signore;  long  ago." 
250 


Postscriptum 


"Ah!     You  have  not  married,  then?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  Signore.  Pasquale  is  my  husband.  Does 
not  the  Signore  recall  Pasquale?  He  was  maestro  di 
casa,  and  became  my  father's  partner.  The  house  is 
ours,  Signore.  He  is  padrone,  but  now,  unhappily, 
from  home, — at  Empoli, — for  a  day  or  two.  The  din 
ner  is  served,  if  the  Signore  pleases." 

And  while  they  dined,  chiefly  on  macaroni,  over  a 
flask  of  Chianti,  Hemming  thought  of  the  song,  the 
clinking  sword :  "  La  ci  darem  la  mano !  "  Even  in 
San  Gimignano  these  years  had  wrought  their  changes. 

When  their  frugal  meal  was  ended  he  suggested  to 
his  wife  a  short  stroll  through  a  certain  ruined  court 
leading  to  an  angle  of  the  bastions,  where  he  had  often 
watched  the  sunset.  Thither  they  went,  accordingly; 
the  weeds  were  taller,  perhaps,  but  the  steps,  built  for 
eternity,  stood  firm,  unshaken.  At  the  top  Suzette 
clasped  her  hands  in  silent  wonder;  it  was  far  more 
beautiful  than  she  had  dreamed.  Her  eyes  were  all  for 
the  wide,  incomparable  landscape.  But  he,  after  one 
comprehensive  glance  at  it,  scrutinized  the  stones  on 
which  they  leaned.  There,  at  last,  with  some  difficulty, 
he  deciphered  the  worn  inscription,  that  in  his  day  had 
been  newly  cut.  Rafraella's  name,  the  soldier's,  and 
underneath: 

SIAMO  AMOR— 

The  last  letters  were  illegible. 

251 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

His  wife,  guided  by  his  look,  saw  the  storm-beaten 
scratches  on  the  parapet,  and,  remembering  the  story, 
understood  them. 

"  Siamo  amorosi,"  she  murmured.  "  The  words  are 
sweet,  even  without  the  sense.  But  Martino  is  dead 
and  gone,  poor  fellow!  beyond  the  sunset.  And 
Raffaella  is  padrona  di  casa  now." 

"  Siamo  amorosi!  "  She  repeated  the  words  as  they 
turned  back,  half  to  Paul,  half  to  herself,  applying  the 
happy  phrase  to  their  own  happiness,  until  the  first  sad 
suggestion  of  it  melted  away  and  was  gone.  They 
came  down  by  a  new  path,  which  brought  them  to  a 
corner  of  the  square,  near  the  cathedral.  There  was 
still  some  light,  and,  as  the  church-door  stood  open, 
Suzette  proposed  to  get,  then  and  there,  her  first  im 
pression  of  the  wondrous  Ghirlandaio. 

"  So  late?  "  Paul  objected. 

"Just  for  a  moment!"  she  urged.  "We  will  go 
straight  there,  and  look  at  nothing  else.  I  cannot 
wait  till  morning." 

He  led  the  way,  his  old  familiar  one,  up  the  southern 
aisle  to  its  last  side-chapel,  the  chapel  of  Santa  Fina. 
There  she  was — still  fair,  unfaded,  never  to  fade,  it 
may  be  hoped,  lovelier  than  ever  in  her  perpetual  re 
pose.  They  stood  before  the  fresco  with  scarce  a  word 
until  the  waning  light  grew  dim.  Meanwhile  Hem 
ming,  who  had  not  prepared  his  wife  for  the  strange  re 
semblance  in  the  face  to  a  living  one  which  they  both 

252 


Postscriptum 


knew,  watched  her  curiously  to  see  if  she  would  dis 
cover  it,  and  in  a  moment  was  sure  that  she  had  done 
so.  How,  indeed,  could  she  have  helped  discovering 
it?  Some  condition  of  light  at  this  hour  seemed  to 
make  its  effect  peculiarly  vivid  and  startling. 

"You  saw  the  likeness!"  he  said,  when  they  had 
passed  out  into  the  gathering  dusk. 

"  Yes,  of  course.  How  strong  it  is!  You  never  told 
me." 

"  I  wanted  to  see  if  the  look  were  really  as  strong 
as  I  had  imagined.  If,  with  no  hint  from  me,  you 
would  find  it,  too." 

They  hurried  on,  for  the  night  chill  was  upon  them. 
She  did  not  speak  again  on  the  way  down,  but  shivered 
a  little  with  the  cold.  And  he,  absorbed  in  thought, 
remembered,  as  often  before,  that  this  was  almost  the 
first  word  of  Nina  Wise  which,  since  their  engagement, 
had  passed  between  them.  Even  now  her  name  had 
not  been  mentioned.  Many  times,  approaching  the  sub 
ject  cautiously,  he  had  prepared  to  mention  it,  to 
supplement  the  words  of  his  letter  with  other  and  fuller 
spoken  words.  And  always  she  had  changed  the  sub 
ject,  reminding  him,  gently  and  considerately,  that 
there  was  no  need  to  discuss  it  further,  that  the  words 
upon  his  lips  were  better  left  unspoken.  He  was  ready 
now  to  begin  them  again.  But  he  knew  in  advance 
her  answer.  He  longed  to  tell  her  how  deeply  he 
was  touched  by  this  oft-repeated  gentleness  and  con- 

253 


The  Courage  of  Conviction 

sideration.  And  she  would  not  permit  it.  He  could 
only  tell  her  how  deeply  and  how  truly  he  loved  her. 
She  would  permit  that  a  thousand  and  a  thousand 
times. 

A  bright  fire  crackled  on  the  hearth  of  the  big 
room.  While  they  warmed  their  hands  at  it  she  was 
still  silent;  still,  as  he  began  to  fear,  disturbed  by  some 
intrusive  thought.  He  could  guess  what  it  was,  but 
hesitated  to  betray  his  knowledge. 

"Are  you  tired?"  he  asked,  more  to  break  the 
silence  than  from  that  particular  solicitude. 

"  Oh,  no!  "  she  said,  lightly,  turning  her  face  toward 
him  but  away  from  the  fire,  so  that  it  was  left  in 
shadow.  "  I  am  going  in  to  unpack  my  trunk.  Will 
you  give  me  the  key,  please?  " 

He  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  the  ring  to  which  the 
keys  were  attached,  drew  hers  up,  and  handed  it  to 
her.  "You  are  sure  you  are  not  tired?" 

"Perfectly!"  she  assured  him,  with  a  smile,  and 
passed  out  into  the  chamber,  where  presently,  it 
seemed  that  Raffaella  joined  her.  He  heard  laughter 
and  their  voices. 

He  drew  a  low  chair  to  the  hearthstone,  and,  sitting 
down,  stretched  out  toward  the  flames.  How  strange 
it  was  to  be  here  again — here,  in  this  old  palace,  fallen 
into  decay,  degraded  to  an  inn,  haunted  by  its  troops 
of  memories,  his  own  among  them!  There  was  the 
place  where  he  had  received  his  letters.,  where  he  had 

254 


Postscriptum 


found  himself,  as  he  expressed  it,  where  he  had 
brooded  desperately,  alone!  And  now  he  found  him 
self  again,  a  being  of  another  world,  light  of  heart, 
unrecognizable,  happy  in  his  wife — so  happy!  If  only 
this  thin  line  of  shadow  would  not  creep  in  between 
them!  He  wondered  if  the  shadow  were  all  of  his  own 
imagining,  if  that  thought  were  not  in  her  mind  at  all ; 
or  if,  on  the  other  hand,  it  were  there  continually, 
always  ready  to  assert  itself  at  the  first  chance  re 
minder,  clouding,  at  a  breath,  the  clearest  sunshine. 
It  could  not  be.  He  would  not  have  it  so.  They 
ought  to  strive  for  an  understanding  above  and  beyond 
it.  He  must  speak  out,  to  justify  himself  completely, 
once  for  all, — saying  thus, — or  thus. 

He  sank  lower  in  the  chair,  and  leaned  his  cheek 
upon  his  hand,  staring  at  the  blaze,  rehearsing  his  part 
meanwhile — so  lost  in  it  that  he  failed  to  hear  a  step 
behind  him,  and  was  unaware  of  his  wife's  presence 
until  he  felt  her  touch  upon  his  shoulder. 

She  knelt  upon  the  hearth  beside  him,  and  took  his 
hand,  without  looking  up. 

"  Paul!  "  she  began,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  have  some 
thing  to  tell  you — something  that  I  meant,  before  this, 
to  let  you  know.  And  now  I  cannot  delay  it  longer." 

"Ah!"  he  sighed,  pressing  her  hand  gently.  "So 
much  the  better !  I  understand, — I  know." 

"No!"  she  continued;  "it  is  about  this, — this  let 
ter." 

255 


The   Courage  of  Conviction 

She  moved  the  other  hand,  tightly  clasped,  toward 
the  light,  and  he  saw  at  once  that  the  letter  was  his 
own. 

"  Yes,"  he  sighed  again.    "  I  know." 

"No,  Paul,"  she  insisted.     "See!" 

She  turned  the  letter.  Then,  looking  down  at  it,  he 
saw  the  seal  unbroken. 

"What!"  he  cried,  "you  never  read  that  letter, 
then?" 

"  I  could  not  bear  to  read  it,"  she  explained,  in  a 
troubled  whisper.  "  I  knew  a  part, — the  essential  part, 
I  am  sure, — of  what  it  contains.  There  was  no  need, 
then,  of  my  knowing  more;  I  had  no  desire  to  know. 
I  thought  a  time  might  come  when  I  should  be  better 
able,  more  willing,  to  learn  details;  when,  perhaps,  I 
might  change  my  mind  so  far,  even,  as  to  wish  to  learn 
them.  So  I  put  away  the  letter,  kept  it,  brought  it 
with  me.  And  now — 

"  And  now  the  time  has  come." 

"Now  my  mind  is  made  up;  nothing  will  ever 
change  it.  You  will  not  blame  me,  dearest,  if — 

Then,  with  a  quick  gesture,  she  threw  his  mes 
sage — unread,  unopened,  undelivered — deep  into  the 
coals. 

Hemming  made  a  movement  to  spring  forward  for 
it,  but  she  held  him  fast. 

"  You  will  never  speak  to  me  again  of  it,  dearest, 
will  you?  " 

256 


Postscriptum 


He  dropped  back.  Then,  after  a  moment,  he  stirred, 
bent  low,  and  kissed  her. 

"  Did  you  think,"  she  whispered,  tenderly,  "  that  I 
would  not  trust  the  man  who  was  to  be  my  husband?  '' 


THE   END. 


257 


A     000127156     8 


